DarkHeart
by katyastark
Summary: After miraculously surviving a suicide attempt, Midoriya Izuku finds that he's not as useless as the world believes. [TW for suicidal ideation/attempts] Villain!Deku
1. Chapter 1

Izuku Midoriya was ready to end it all. He couldn't get Kacchan's words out of his head. Swan dive off a building. Izuku knew Kacchan was moody and aggressive, but he never thought Kacchan truly hated him until he said those words. He was tired of being useless. Useless Deku. Even All Might said he could never be a hero. He was a Quirkless loser and that would never change. Not in this life, at least. He stood on the roof of the building All Might left him on, inching closer to the edge every minute. Distantly, he registered the sound of an explosion somewhere in the city. It was a further reminder that no matter how much he was hurting, something else would always be bigger, stand out more, command more attention. Izuku hated this. He hated feeling sorry for himself-feeling so low he was almost in a trance. All he could think about was an ending.

So he did it. He threw himself over the edge. It was a long fall, and in the end, he found himself looking upward as he fell. He expected to feel regret, or some kind of something. But for the first time in his miserable existence, Izuku felt nothing. No anxiety, no crippling need to fit in, and no hope. In the few minutes it took Izuku Midoriya to fall to his death, he felt completely at ease. That is, until he hit the ground. Amid the sickening thuds and cracks his body made when it smacked the concrete, he heard his screaming until it was cut off by the gargle of blood in his throat, in his lungs, everywhere. And then there was something else.

Izuku died. He was certain of it, and yet, he was unmistakably alive and breathing and moving. His body was nothing but a shell, growing thin as paper, and dissolving more every second. He sat up, eschewing what remained of his old body. He was still himself with every freckle in the same place on his brand new skin.

"What? Wh-why?" Just as soon as Izuku stood up he fell to his knees, stupid, useless tears in his stupid, useless eyes. He was so worthless he couldn't even kill himself correctly.

"An impressive Quirk." A deep voice came from the alley next to the building Izuku fell from. Izuku turned to face someone little more than a shadow. His body rippled in shapeless darkness and his yellow eyes glowed in threatening slits. "You're in so much pain, Midoriya Izuku, but I believe you can find purpose with us."

"I...I have a Quirk?"

When Kurogiri wasn't babysitting Shigaraki Tomura, he was gathering intel. All Might was in the city for reasons unknown to the League of Villains and it was the perfect opportunity to begin formulating their plans. Originally, Kurogiri was following the sludge villain to recruit him to the League when All Might literally blew him away. So much for recruitment.

The young boy All Might saved was, in a word, pathetic. He fawned over All Might, bowing repeatedly over an autograph in a singed notebook. All Might was short and somewhat impatient with the boy. That was odd and Kurogiri knew that if he followed the Symbol of Peace something would surely come of his efforts. Kurogiri kept his distance, but he could clearly hear the boy on the roof from the darkness of the alley.

"Can I be a hero without a Quirk?" He didn't have to catch a glimpse of the boy to know he was crying. Pathetic. It was impossible to hear All Might's reply, and Kurogiri didn't dare go any closer to the Symbol of Peace. Judging by the boy's sobs, he could only guess that the answer was no. He heard the creak and heavy thud of a door being open and shut, and knew All Might was on the move. Kurogiri was about to warp away, eager to keep following All Might, when the boy's body slammed to the pavement. The notebook he once held flitted in the wind, landing at Kurogiri's polished dress shoes. The front cover was burnt and dirty, but the writing was legible: Hero Analysis for The Future vol. 13, Midoriya Izuku.

"How tragic," he mumbled to himself. Kurogiri was a villain to his core, but the death of children still made him uncomfortable. He didn't like to think of all the hurt that boy must have carried around in his pathetic, little body for him to willingly become a smear on sidewalk. Kurogiri sighed, turning back to his waiting warp gate, when the boy screamed.

He was very much alive, and Kurogiri decided that anyone who could hate themselves so fully, must be angry enough to hate others. The League could use that.

It didn't take much to lure the boy into the warp gate. He was clearly in shock. Midoriya Izuku had a talent for muttering. He kept touching his hands, his face, the back of his head, all while mumbling about the Quirk he never knew he had. He sat the shaking boy on a barstool and gave him a glass of water. Shigararki was nowhere to be found, but he trusted Shigaraki would call if he needed a warp. All there was to do was wait.

Kurogiri leafed through the pages of the Hero Analysis book, mildly interested in its content. He didn't care for all the praise written about a hero's Quirk or costume design, but the analysis of each hero's strengths and weaknesses was truly impressive. Kurogiri turned his eyes on Midoriya, who was still muttering like a fool.

"Stop that," Kurogiri snapped. The boy flinched, and with shaking hands sipped at his water glass. They would have to beat the pathetic out of him, but Kurogiri knew a little praise could go a long way with this boy. He's probably not used to hearing it.

"Tell me about this." Kurogiri flapped the pages of his hero book shut and placed it in front of Midoriya. He flinched again.

"I like to take notes on heroes and their Quirks. It's nothing special." Midoriya's cheeks reddened and his eyes dimmed.

"Nothing special," he repeated, turning the notebook this way and that. "Looks like it was special enough to save it from—what, a fire?"

"Explosion Quirk." Midoriya flipped the notebook open to a well-worn page. The top of the page read Kacchan.

"Kacchan? What a stupid hero name."

"He's not a hero," he said with some emotion in his voice. Anger? Midoriya's fist clenched on the edge of the bar. Yes, definitely anger.

"And you have twelve more of these?" Kurogiri asked. Midoriya nodded and Kurogiri noticed his eyes damp with pathetic tears.

"This is special, young man. Quirks can be useful, but nothing can substitute for a sharp mind," Kurogiri said, attempting to be gentle, "Remember that. It will keep you alive."

Midoriya looked a little ashamed, but he mumbled a small "thanks" for the compliment. They fell into silence and Kurogiri busied himself behind the bar to avoid any more conversation. Midoriya was still crying, but at least he did it quietly. After some time, Kurogiri's phone buzzed. Shigaraki sent his location, effectively telling Kurogiri to pick him up. Kurogiri focused his Quirk, and in seconds Shigaraki walked through the warp gate into the bar. Midoriya made an audible, "ooh," before starting to mumble, no doubt intrigued by his Quirk.

"You're so useful, Kurogiri." Shigaraki sauntered over to the bar and took a seat. Kurogiri had been in Shigaraki's company long enough to know that to Shigaraki, that was basically a "thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Who's the brat?" Shigaraki eyed Midoriya from behind his hand mask.

"Shigaraki Tomura, this is Midoriya Izuku. I believe he will be an asset to our organization."

"Nice to meet you," Midoriya said. Shigaraki scoffed at Midoriya's inherent politeness. With impressive speed, Shigaraki grabbed Midoriya's face, all but his ring finger digging into his freckled flesh.

"Kurogiri, explain to me why you think we need this crybaby before I disintegrate him out of boredom."

"He's—" Kurogiri began before Midoriya cut him off. "Do it."

Shigaraki's eyes widened, and then narrowed with interest. "Don't tempt me, kid. You don't know what I'm capable of."

Midoriya's face changed. Kurogiri could see hot anger in his eyes and his jaw tightened. He was literally pushing his face into Shigaraki's withered hand. "Kill me. I don't care. You're just a bully, and I've dealt with bullies my entire life. You'd do me a favor," Midoriya spoke through clenched teeth. This is the anger Kurogiri knew was inside him, simmering underneath.

"Shigaraki, control yourself," Kurogiri said, like a stern parent. Kurogiri saw the change in Shigaraki's stance. It was a test-a stupid one, but it appeared Midoriya passed. Shigaraki let up, pulling his hand away from Midoriya's face.

"No!" Midoriya moved to pull Shigaraki's hand back toward his face, pressing all five fingers into his skin with his own two hands. Shigaraki let out a hiss of surprise as Midoriya's face began to crack under Shigaraki's Quirk. Midoriya didn't even have time to make a noise before he went limp and half his face was destroyed.

Skigaraki snatched his hand back, looking a little horrified. Kurogiri assumed Shigaraki had never been grabbed like that. "Stupid kid. Clean him up, Kurogiri."

"That won't be necessary, Shigaraki. Midoriya Izuku has a very useful Quirk and an even more useful skill." Kurogiri slid the notebook down the bar for Shigaraki's perusal while they waited for Midoriya to come back to life. Kurogiri couldn't help but be impressed with Midoriya. Kurogiri had been around long enough to know to never underestimate a person with nothing to lose.

Izuku lay on the floor of the bar surrounded by what was left of his disintegrating body. Like a snake shedding its skin, he thought absently. He sighed, remembering what Shigaraki's dry, cracked hands felt on his skin, the blinding pain of losing half his face, and how he'd forced it on himself. He craved another moment of ease, that same bliss of feeling nothing before he smacked into the ground below. It was incredible, if fleeting.

"Damn it," Izuku muttered, pulling himself into a sitting position on the dusty bar floor. Izuku wondered how many more times he was going to have to die before it stuck. He was sure the shady guys at the bar were too.

"Seems like you've got a death wish, kid." Shigaraki leaned against the bar top, casual as ever as if Izuku hadn't just died in front of him. Was Shigaraki right? Did Izuku really want to die? He didn't think so. He just… didn't want to feel anymore. He wasn't going to share that with a stranger though, so he shrugged and took his seat at the bar. Kurogiri refilled his water.

"I like a guy with a little crazy, but offing yourself every chance you get doesn't really work for the League." Shigaraki chuckled behind his mask. He picked up Izuku's notebook, holding it gingerly between his thumb and pointer finger, so as not to disintegrate it, "But this… Maybe we can use this."

"What's the League?" Izuku asked. "Why do you want my notes?" Why do you want me? Izuku wasn't unintelligent. He knew he was most likely in a villain hideout with two less-than-savory characters, but he couldn't shake the thought that it was nice to feel wanted—useful. Useless Deku,Kacchan's words rang in his head like a bell for the second time that day.

"The League of Villains," Shigaraki said, spreading his arms wide in a grand gesture. "Here. Us. You." When had Izuku ever been included in an "us?" It struck him as odd to think villains would show him such—well, maybe not kindness, but acceptance. Had anyone ever looked at his notebooks and said anything encouraging? How many people had stomped on his dreams because he wasn't enough? He thought of All Might, in his withered, emaciated form having the gall to tell him he wasn't good enough to be a hero, and the ugliest part of him roared to life—the part of him that hated, and wanted to hurt someone other than himself.

It was almost intoxicating to think of himself as part of an "us" even if they were using him for something nefarious. This was the closest he'd ever felt to being wanted. Finally, he responded, "What would I do for the League?"

Shiagarki removed his hand mask to reveal an unsettling smile, "The best part of being a villain is doing whatever you want. We'll teach you how."

"I don't really know what I want," Izuku admitted. His eyes filled with frustrated tears, but thankfully they stayed unshed. His chest hurt under the weight of all his emotion. He was so tired.

"Stop crying and pull yourself together. That's the first thing you should want." Shigaraki scratched at his neck impatiently. Izuku chuckled weakly because he was right. Wasn't he just thinking how nice it would be not to feel anything?

"Yeah. It would be nice not to feel like this anymore. I want that," he mumbled, averting his eyes. It was embarrassing to admit. Shigaraki stopped scratching suddenly enough that Izuku looked up. Kurogiri and Shigaraki shared a look—while Kurogiri hardly had an expression to read, Izuku could see a mischievous gleam in Shigaraki's red eyes. He could almost see the idea growing in them.

"If I can help you get what you want, you will help me get what I want. Deal?" Shigaraki phrased it in such a way that didn't give Izuku much choice. He was curious—and rightly apprehensive. Izuku couldn't shake the thought that he just sold his soul to the devil.

"Deal."


	2. Chapter 2

A month.

That's how long it's been since shitty Deku stopped coming to school. That's how long it's been since Deku's been staring back at him from the pages of a missing poster, his nervous face littered all over Shizuoka prefecture.

"Stupid Deku." Katsuki Bakugou's palms prickled with small explosions. He punched the millionth missing poster he'd seen that day, setting it aflame. They set his teeth on edge and filled his stomach with guilt—an emotion he hadn't had the displeasure of feeling in a very long time. He watched Deku's face singe, the spent ashes floating away in the wind.

"Katsuki!" His mother's shrill voice bombarded him the second he closed the front door behind him.

"What?"

"Wash up and don't be a brat. We're having a guest over for dinner." His mother appeared in the kitchen doorway, drying her hands on a towel. She looked determined, as if she knew Katsuki was itching for a fight. Katsuki always found it both unsettling and impressive the way she managed to read Katsuki like a book. A guest at dinner wasn't anything new. His parents were popular, friendly people and networking was in their job description. Usually, his parents let him hide in his room. Unlike his parents, Katsuki was not friendly—popular, maybe, in a certain light, but people were a drain on him. He would never let that weakness show, but he was always mentally exhausted after school and it had nothing to do with the lackluster teaching curriculum.

"But—"

"Don't test me, Katsuki. No buts. And when Midoriya-san gets here, you will be tolerable."

"M-Midoriya?" Katsuki hated that he stuttered. Why in the fuck was stupid Deku's mom coming to dinner? He had to look at Deku's face all day, and now he would have to see an exact replica sitting across from him at dinner. Why couldn't he have just a moment of peace?

"Listen, kid. I know you and Izuku weren't friends anymore, but I still care about Midoriya-san. Her son is missing and she needs a friend," his mom's voice was uncharacteristically soft, and she set her hand on his shoulder. Katsuki scoffed at her.

"Missing? He's dead." He slapped her hand away and hurried upstairs. He only slightly listened to her shrill admonishments, "I swear to fuck, brat, if you say anything like that while Midoriya-san is here—" He slammed his door, effectively drowning her out.

It was the first time he'd ever said it out loud. He's dead. Deku is probably dead and it is not Katsuki's fault.

"It's not my fault. It's not my fault." Katsuki repeated it over and over to himself, pacing back and forth in his room. He broke out into a cold sweat, his palms popping and sparking. His mom would kill him if he blew anything up. He stomped to the bathroom to clean up.

Katsuki never really cared enough to pick up on social cues, so awkwardness wasn't a feeling he was too familiar with. But this dinner was awkward as fuck and it was pissing him off. Midoriya Inko sat across from him at the dinner table, her eyes perpetually shiny. She looked too much like Deku and he did his best to look anywhere but at her even though she could feel her stare boring into his very soul. This awful dinner consisted of long, painful silences. His mom kept trying to start a conversation by asking safe, boring questions. Mrs. Midoriya squeaked out small, one word responses that killed the conversation before it ever got going. Katsuki shoveled his food into his mouth so fast he hardly tasted it, desperate to escape.

"Can I be excused," he deadpanned, eyeing his mom across the table. She narrowed her eyes slightly, but she looked too worn out to really fight him. She sighed, "Sure, kid."

Thank fuck, he thought as he backed out his chair and stood up. He gave a half-hearted bow in Mrs. Midoriya's direction, still avoiding looking at her. He hurried toward the stairs when her mousy voice spoke up, "Wait, please."

He swallowed, feeling guilt rising from the pit of his stomach. Please, Kacchan. Deku and his mom were too similar. He had to get out of there. He turned quickly toward their green haired guest, only meeting her eyes for a second before looking away.

"I-" she started, her voice shaky, "You used to be friends... Do you know anything about where he could be? Did he say anything on his last day? I just—I don't know what else to do."

Katsuki couldn't meet her eyes knowing they were swimming in tears, so he looked at the floor instead. What could he say to her that would make her feel even remotely better?

I blew up his notebook and made him cry.

I told him to kill himself.

I told him he was useless and I think he believed me this time.

He's probably dead and it's all my fault.

"I don't know anything." He huffed a haughty sigh and retreated upstairs, far away from Mrs. Midoriya's wet, horribly familiar gaze.


	3. Chapter 3

Tomura Shigaraki didn't like to think about his life before Sensei found him, so much so that he had all but forgotten about most of it. But he remembered how he felt. He remembered the constant fear and weakness and the crippling loneliness. Looking at Midoriya was like looking at the painful memories of his past and he mostly hated him for that. Looking at Midoriya made his skin itch more than usual. And yet, there was something about him that made you want to protect him—Tomura would never do that, but he could admit that, objectively, that was a thing that normal people might feel about Midoriya. Luckily, Tomura was not a normal person.

He spent the first six years of his life in an orphanage for children with highly dangerous, unstable Quirks, he never got to go to school, and he never had a friend in his life. If he squinted hard enough, Kurogiri might look like a friend, but ultimately his job was to spy on him for Sensei.

Midoriya was not his friend, but he liked to try to be. After a few weeks of what Tomura thought was a comfortable silence, Midoriya ruined everything by making an effort to speak to him.

"Nice shoes," he said, sitting at the bar. He was short so his feet dangled above the floor. He nudged Tomura's red sneakers with his comically large high tops of the same color, all while smiling shyly up at him. Tomura rolled his eyes. He could practically see the loneliness oozing out of Midoriya's pores. Tomura scratched his neck absently and muttered, "Yeah."

Their rooms shared a very thin wall. It was mostly an annoyance for Tomura. Midoriya was surprisingly noisy at all hours of the night, either muttering about Quirks or crying into his sheets. Hearing his squealing, little sobs and shuddering breaths made him itch. The amount of dried blood under Tomura's fingernails had a direct correlation to how puffy Midoriya's eyes were. It put him on edge to be around such blatant weakness. Most of the time, Tomura cranked up the volume on his TV trying to drown him out with a video game soundtrack. It was usually around five am when Midoriya finally shut up and he could get some sleep.

Sometimes Midoriya would leave the bar. Kurogiri always kept a close eye on him, ready to yank him back to the bar through a warp gate if he tried to do anything stupid. Kurogiri told him that he only ever went to his old neighborhood and stared at his apartment tower. On those nights the crying was the ugliest. One night in particular, about a month after Midoriya joined up with them, he came back from one of his outings having what Tomura could only describe as a fit. His eyes were twitchy and panicky and wet with hardly suppressed tears. He nearly stomped up to his room (very unlike Midoriya) and didn't bother with any pleasantries (very, very unlike him).

Tomura looked to Kurogiri for some kind of explanation, his eyes blown a little wide, "What the fuck was that?"

Kurogiri's narrow, yellow eyes narrowed further, "An opportunity."

Faintly, Tomura could hear stomping and grunting and something that sounded a lot like a lamp hitting a wall. When all that was over, Tomura ascended the stairs, ready to take the opportunity. He pushed Midoriya's door open, not bothering to knock. Midoriya was sitting on his bed with tear-stained cheeks. His room was a war zone, sheets, pillows, and crumpled papers were thrown all over the room, his lamp—now cracked—lay in a heap on the opposite side of the room from his desk where it usually lived.

"Get up."

Midoriya obeyed, tears still running soundlessly down his cheeks, and followed Tomura to his bedroom. Tomura flopped onto his couch, starting up the game that was perpetually on his TV. Midoriya stood in the doorway, seemingly waiting for an invitation he wouldn't get. Tomura threw the second controller at him and he finally took the hint. They played for about twenty minutes. Tomura waited for Midoriya's breathing to become less ragged before he dove in, "Tell me about it."

Midoriya sighed, "I saw my mom tonight. I haven't actually seen her yet. It was upsetting."

"That's it?" He couldn't keep the bitter edge from his voice. So much for finding an opportunity in this.

"She went to Kacchan's." Midoriya was almost certainly pouting, but Tomura couldn't tear his eyes away from the screen.

"What the fuck is a kacchan," he deadpanned, trying for some levity.

"A lot of things. It's complicated," Midoriya mumbled. Tomura had never seen him so tight-lipped. Usually, he couldn't get him to shut up. Tomura couldn't muster the energy to wring the information from him, so he settled for giving some advice.

"I'm not going to coddle you all night, brat. And you suck at this game," Tomura started, as "1P WINNER" lit up the screen, "So all I'm going to say is: get angry, get even. Do something other than sobbing into your pillow at four in the morning." He put down the controller to level a stare at the sad sack sitting next to him. He was definitely pouting, his lashes, wet with tears, glistened in the light of the TV.

"I told you that being a villain meant doing whatever you want. What did you want when you were stomping around and tearing apart your room?" Here goes nothing.

"I want Kacchan to hurt. As much as he hurt me," he said, his voice wobbled, fat tears falling down his cheeks.

"Say it again. No crying this time."

Allowing himself to be civil with Midoriya was a mistake. He was like a pet—a stray puppy that Tomura neither wanted nor needed that just wouldn't leave him alone. Still, he put up with him. And Midoriya cried about half as much as usual. Tomura was thankful for the reprieve.

"Can I study your Quirk?" Midoriya was red in the face with angelic hope. It was much too early and the bar was far too dark for a smile that bright.

"No. And stop smiling like that," Tomura deadpanned, sipping his orange juice. He very carefully held his ring finger away from the glass. Kurogiri would be pissed if he disintegrated another glass—he'd managed to either break or decay four this month alone.

"Oh, okay. Sorry. Can I show you what I have so far?" Midoriya's grip tightened on his grubby, bloodstained notebook. He noticed that hero was now crossed out on the front cover. If laughter was something Tomura enjoyed, he might be inclined to chuckle at that.

Tomura quirked an eyebrow—an action that he was pretty sure was all but invisible beneath his shaggy hair, but Midoriya took that as silent acquiescence anyway. He laid the notebook flat on the bar between them, scooting slightly closer to Tomura and flipping to a page at the back of the book.

"You're a shitty artist." Tomura fought the urge to scratch his neck as he eyed the offending likeness of his villain costume. There's no way he looks that stupid on a regular basis.

"Well, hands are hard to draw." Midoriya's cheeks pinked.

"And arms. And legs, apparently. Bodies. "

"That's—that's not important! Anyway—" Midoriya was beet red and stuttering like a fool as he moved his hands to cover the drawing on the left page. Tomura let out a low, throaty croak that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. He listened to Midoriya mumble about his Quirk for nearly an hour, occasionally correcting Midoriya's assumptions or answering his questions. It was… nice—nice to be noticed, nice to laugh at Midoriya's expense, nice to be close in proximity to someone, even someone as annoying as him. Having a corrosive Quirk makes for a lonely life, but Midoriya hadn't shied away from him once. Not even when—in a very un-Tomura-like fashion—he placed his hand on top of Midoriya's head, his pinky finger extended up and away, ruffling his bushy, green hair.

"You're not so bad Midoriya," Tomura started, feeling an unnatural warmth in his stomach when Midoriya didn't jump at the contact. His green-eyed puppy started to speak, but Tomura cut him off, "But we're still not friends. And my shoes are way cooler than yours."

With that, Tomura stood up from the bar, snatching the notebook away from Midoriya. He needed a new one anyway.

In the passing months, Izuku had found an unexpected—and very often, unwilling—friend in Tomura. It made missing his mom a little more bearable. It made the sting of thinking about his old life, about Kacchan—a little less devastating. Sometimes being friends with Tomura was a lot like still being friends with Kacchan. They both had the easy confidence of a person who knew how much power they wielded. And their tempers were fearsome to behold. Izuku couldn't decide who among them was worse. Tomura was prone to destructive outbursts when things didn't go his way, and even when things did, he was still very in touch with his last nerve. And yet, his violence was never directed at Izuku. Even when he blustered and threatened him, Izuku walked away unscathed. About four months into their tentative friendship, Izuku felt safe enough to test his limits.

"Shigaraki, do you have a nickname?" Izuku asked on a particularly good day. He'd caught a glimpse of his mom while she was at the grocery store, and she smiled as she chatted with an old woman that he vaguely remembered lived in their apartment tower. She looked like her old self and Izuku couldn't find it in himself to be even a little bit sad.

"No," Tomura said, firm. He was attempting to build a house of cards, carefully building the pyramid up. Izuku sat at the bar with him, nearly holding his breath, careful not to make any sudden moves that might bring the whole thing down.

"Want one? Giri likes his nickname." Izuku shifted his gaze to Kurogiri for confirmation. Kurogiri's face remained the placid faceless visage it always was, but Izuku took that as tacit compliance and barreled on.

"Tomura isn't even my real name, asshat," he said. Izuku wrinkled his nose at the name calling—it was so similar to something Kacchan would say, it startled him—but he filed away that tidbit about his name for later.

"'Asshat' isn't a good nickname. Don't call me that," he started, resting his chin on the hand that was propped up on the bar, "What about Tomu? Or maybe To-chan?"

Izuku's movement caused the three-level house of cards to collapse and he could see Shigaraki trying really hard not to grip the bar top with all five fingers. Kurogiri, usually a silent specter behind the bar, chuckled. Izuku's eyes dart to the misty man, just so he could see what his face looked like when he was laughing. (Hardly different, as it turned out.)

Shigaraki, usually pale, had a nice shade of pink high on his cheeks that Izuku could just make out under his hair.

"Don't ever call me Tomu—"

"To-chan it is, then!" Izuku cut him off. He was being so brash he almost couldn't believe himself, but he was in high spirits and making Shigaraki blush gave Izuku more satisfaction than he'd felt in months. It was great to know Izuku wasn't the only one whose pink cheeks betrayed him. Kurogiri was still laughing, but very clearly trying to disguise it as coughing.

"Christ, Just call me Tomura, twerp." Tomura's hands reached for his neck. Izuku noticed that Tomura only scratched when he was overwhelmed or agitated, which was more often than not when Izuku was involved.

"Twerp is a terrible nickname," Izuku hedged, pushing his luck just a little further. Tomura immediately stopped scratching and slammed his hands on the bartop, enraged and clearly out of patience. A few of his cards disintegrated and there was a finger-shaped chip out of the bar's enamel.

"Midoriya, I swear to god—" All bluster, no bite.

Of course, that wasn't to say that Tomura wasn't deadly and unapologetically violent. He'd killed Izuku once before, after all, but something about that fact made Izuku a little less scared of him—a little less scared of everything in general. Sure, it hurt to die, but it was only temporary for him. If he didn't think about it too much, he felt nearly invincible on the good days. On the bad days, he felt inconvenienced, like his Quirk was the only thing standing between him and peace. The bad days seemed to pile on top of him, snowballing into even worse weeks. Tomura seemed very bothered by that.

"Get up." Tomura had all but kicked in his door while Izuku was still sleeping. He'd been with the League for nearly five months, and so far they'd asked very little of him, so he spent most of his time wallowing. His windowless room really messed with his circadian rhythm. He used to be an early riser, no matter how late he stayed up doing homework, or just staring at his ceiling waiting to his mind to slow down enough to sleep. Now, he was lucky if he had more than three hours of daylight when he finally got around to getting out of bed.

"What time is it?" Izuku mumbled, eyes still closed and half buried in his pillow.

"Fucking 2 in the afternoon." Izuku could hear Tomura's scratching, but he was unbothered. He rolled over, reacquainting himself with his warm comforter.

"Could be worse." He recalled a span of time where he woke up half past five for a week straight. Suddenly, Tomura sent a controller whizzing through the air with extreme prejudice. It caught Izuku between the shoulder blades, "What was that for?"

"For being a mopey dick. Get up. "

"Was that… a literary pun?" Izuku was nearly shocked awake.

"What the fuck are you talking about," Tomura deadpanned, "Hurry up 2P. We're starting a campaign."

"I thought being a villain meant I could do what I want," Izuku said, a pout very apparent in his tone, if not written all over his face.

"Midoriya, I swear if you make me step into this creepy depression den and drag you out—" his voice trailed off, and Izuku could hear the scratching again—this with more fervency. He sighed heavily, tossing aside his covers, snatching up the controller, and moving toward the exit. Apparently, when Tomura sold Izuku on a life of villainy by saying he could do whatever he wanted, he meant he could do whatever Tomura wanted. Tomura was a lot like Kacchan in that way. Izuku often felt like a plaything around both of them. To Kacchan, Izuku was a punching bag, a crash test dummy. To Tomura, he was probably more like a non-playable character in a video game. Either way, Izuku was trapped under someone's thumb. Anger flared in his stomach at the realization.

Izuku didn't have the guts to shove past him, but he was angry enough to uncharitably toss the controller back at him, taking Tomura by surprise. He reflexively caught it with all five fingers, immediately turning it to dust. Izuku couldn't help the smug, angry smile tugging on his lips. He didn't want to play that stupid game anyway. He could visibly see Tomura trying not to dig his nails into his neck. Tomura let out a ragged, calming breath, "Get dressed. Something nondescript. We're going on a walk."

All the clothes Izuku owned were nondescript. Blank T-shirts, bland hoodies, hats to hide his hair, which was the most noticeable thing about him. Izuku never thought having a plain face would be a good thing, but when he saw his freckled visage littered all over the more populated parts of town, he was grateful to be so unremarkable. When Izuku and Tomura ventured out into the world—Tomura all in black, Izuku in navy blues and greys—Izuku felt uneasy. He was waiting for the catch.

Absently, Tomura snatched one of Izuku's missing posters off a lamp post, holding it lightly in three fingers. He snorted, "You're such a dork Midoriya."

Izuku rolled his eyes. It was his most recent middle school photo, and he did look like a dork. Nervous, skinny, Quirkless Deku. Izuku hoped he looked a little less pathetic as he was now, but he had little hope—he was still nervous and only slightly less skinny, after all. He felt a little raw remembering the day the picture was taken, "Yeah. Right before that picture was taken a kid with a flying Quirk flew me to the top floor of the school and just kept dropping me and catching me over and over again." Izuku remembered being snatched up by the straps of his backpack, his whimpering pleas, and the beat of the kid's massive red wings and he got further away from the ground. The funny thing is, if that kid had just slipped up and let him drop, maybe Izuku could've known about his Quirk much earlier. Maybe seeing Izuku's crumple to the floor, blood pooling around him, only to unceremoniously walk away unscathed might've made everyone leave him alone.

Tomura closed all five fingers, crumpling the poster just a little before it disintegrated in his hands. "Fuck them all, Midoriya. This kid isn't you anymore. I'll prove it to you."

Tomura walked a tenuous line between whimsical and serious, and whenever he tipped over fully into one or the other Izuku paid attention. He was very serious just then, and Izuku couldn't help but be earnest back, "Okay."

After that, they walked to a shopping center just outside of Kamino ward in uninterrupted silence. Tomura slowed, taking on a lazier pace as they neared the entrance, "So what is it you want, Midoriya."

"Huh?" Izuku mentally kicked himself as soon as the offending syllable left his mouth. He could practically see Tomura rolling his eyes, he didn't need to look at him.

"It's not a difficult question. I don't know why you can never answer me," Tomura griped, "I want a new controller. A nice one, no sticky buttons. Got it?"

Izuku's eyebrows knitted together, but he still managed a halfway convincing, "Yes?"

"So. What. Do. You. Want," Tomura asked, punctuating every word slowly, as if that would help Izuku understand.

"Well, I need a new notebook. You, uh, confiscated my last one."

"That's it?" Tomura's tone made it very clear that Izuku's answer was unacceptable.

"Yeah, but—but a really nice one. Fancy. Yeah. " Izuku was a mess. There was no helping him at that point. Tomura guffawed and startled Izuku by hooking his arm around his neck and pulling him close enough to speak in a low voice, "You're such a dork, Midoriya. Relax. "

Izuku nodded, trying to breathe normally. Tomura didn't often initiate physical contact—Izuku assumed Tomura was as socially awkward and insecure as he was. Tomura was just better at burying it.

"So we're going to go in there. You're going to get me what I want. And I'll get you what you want. Think of it as a gift exchange."

"Oh. That sounds kinda nice, actually, Tomura. But I—"

"If you say anything about money, I'll kill you where you stand."

"Oh, uh—well, then what do I—?"

"Figure it out, kid. I'll see you back at the bar." Tomura relinquished his grip on Izuku and walked casually away, only sparing him a cheeky smirk before entering the store.

In the end, Izuku's first brush with crime was very anticlimactic, so much so that he went above and beyond the call. Not only did he get a very expensive, special edition red controller for Tomura's gaming system, but he got him something extra. A real gift for his odd, villainous friend.

Tomura was waiting at the bar when Izuku got back. He was looking a little too casual, his leg sprawled across two bar stools, "Took you long enough!"

Izuku rolled his eyes. He was buzzing, two parts nervous energy, one part adrenaline rush because he stole. He couldn't control the shit-eating grin on his face, "That was amazing. Oh, my god. I am the criminal element ."

He approached the bar and Tomura, pulled his leg in closer to vacate Izuku's usual seat. Izuku took it eagerly, letting his backpack thud on the bar. Tomura had a small smile he tried really hard to hide, and Kurogiri let out a low chuckle while he put a glass of water in front Izuku.

"So let's see it, criminal element." He eyed the backpack expectantly.

Izuku was excited to show him his real gift, so he got the controller out of the way without ceremony, "Here's your stupid, fancy controller. No sticky buttons. I got you something else though. I think you'll like it," he said, fishing in the backpack for the slip of fabric. When he held it out for Tomura, it was slightly crumpled in his hands.

"Is that a fucking thong?" Tomura asked, making no move to touch it. Izuku rolled his eyes but felt his cheeks getting a little hot.

"Of course not! Here," Izuku started; he grabbed Tomura's wrist—very lightly, very slowly, like trying to touch a feral animal without spooking it—and put the funny glove over his hand as best he could.

Izuku had seen it in passing at the store and couldn't help but think of Tomura's Quirk. He saw the care with which Tomura held things and the slight disbelief that flashed in his eyes whenever he accidentally destroyed something. The glove was a thin, stretchy fabric that only covered the wrist, thumb, and pinky finger. Technically it was for people who use tablets, so they could rest their hand on the screen without messing anything up, but it was so perfect for Tomura.

Tomura was silent. His eyes darted between the thin glove on his hand and Izuku's hand on his wrist, like he was trying to keep an eye on two bombs, deciding which one he should defuse first. His silence was making Izuku nervous. Was he mad?

"Its, uh, so you don't have to try so hard not to disintegrate stuff. Like this," Izuku said, his voice small and unsure, the way they were before he got a handle on Tomura's personality. Izuku pressed Tomura's gloved hand flat to the bartop.

Finally, Tomura snatched his hand away from Izuku and said, "I know how my Quirk works, Midoriya," but his tone didn't hold its usual mix of snark and borderline hostility. Izuku knew better than to expect a thank you, but he still uttered a small, slightly sarcastic, "You're welcome, To-chan."

Tomura scoffed, "Don't call me that."

"Or what?" Izuku asked, smug. Tomura eyed Kurogiri, signaling him for something, and said, "Or I'll keep this for myself."

At Tomura's words, Kurogiri pulled a shiny, silver laptop from behind the bar and placed it in front of Izuku. He regarded it with wonder, moisture pooling in the corners of his eyes. He'd never owned anything so new, so expensive. He couldn't help but utter a little "ooh."

"Oh, and a shitty little notebook for on-the-go notes." Tomura tossed a small pocket-sized notepad on top of the laptop, and gave Izuku a rare, wide grin, "I win this round."

Of course, Izuku thought, rolling his eyes, Everything with Tomura is a game.

From then on, they made a habit of playing that game. Practically every other day they would see who could steal a better gift. Sometimes they walked or chanced the train, but most often Kurogiri would warp them so they could hit a different store every time. Tomura won almost every round. He was bold, going for flashy, expensive things, but Izuku liked to put some thought into his gifts. Even if they were small, he tried to get Tomura something he'd like, or at least find useful. Mostly he got him video games, but sometimes he would go out on a limb and bring new things back for him. Izuku analyzed Tomura the same way he analyzed Quirks—he wrote every reaction down in his tiny notepad, a twitchy finger, a small smile, outright disintegrating whatever he didn't like.

Tomura liked sour candies. He hated books. He tolerated cards and board games. He was disgruntled—possibly slightly mortified—when Izuku brought back a plethora of expensive moisturizers and indulgent face masks. It was the only gift that ever made his start scratching, but he made no move to destroy it. Days later, Izuku walked into Tomura's room and found him playing a video game with his shaggy hair tied in an elastic and a sheet mask on his face. Before Izuku could start giggling, Tomura—sounding more deadly than ever—practically screamed, "Get out."

The next day, when Izuku foolishly commented on Tomura's hydrated complexion over breakfast, Tomura threw a full glass of orange juice at him and ignored him for three days. Despite the growing welt on his forehead from taking a drinking glass to the face, Izuku had a warm feeling in his stomach.

And life in the League went on.

Izuku woke up on a crisp, winter morning and just knew the day was destined to be bad. It was a day he'd both looked forward to and dreaded for, at the least, ten months, and, at the most, his entire life. The UA entrance exams were most likely already in progress, and Izuku wasn't there. Izuku had a lot of bad days in the last ten months, but this one felt particularly gloomy the second he opened his eyes. He tried ineffectually to force himself back to sleep, but he was distracted by the noises of his companions, particularly the blaring music from Tomura's video game. Izuku's limbs felt like lead weights, his chest a heavy barbell. Even so, he forced himself out of bed, armed with the knowledge that Tomura would pelt him with a controller if he wasn't out of bed before ten.

He sat in the corner of Tomura's couch, his laptop resting on his crisscrossed legs. He was attempting to find as much online footage of Eraserhead as possible. The frustrating lack of information on him—especially when compared to the plethora of notes he had on the other UA teachers—soured his already dark mood. Izuku let out a small, lame grunt as he angrily typed in his search engine, prodding the keys harder than necessary. Tomura, who lounged on the other end of the couch, letting his long legs extend across considerably more than his fair share of cushion space, hit the pause button on his game. Izuku ignored the feeling of Tomura's red eyes boring into him, scowling angrily at his computer screen. For all Tomura's pretending not to care, he seemed to be very attuned to Izuku's mood. Depending on his mood, Izuku found that either endearing or annoying.

Tomura hated being ignored, so he sprawled across the couch further, allowing his socked feet to stretch across Izuku's laptop. Izuku, in favor of being petty, continued to work around his feet as best he could. He'd finally found a grainy, shaky cell phone video of Eraserhead in action and he watched it with a stubborn, single-minded focus. Tomura, who could be exponentially pettier than anyone Izuku had ever met, began lazily poking Izuku's shoulder, neck, and temple with his toes. Izuku finally gave in when Tomura roughly poked a toe into his ear.

"Can I help you?" he asked, getting as close to a snarl as Izuku could manage. Tomura didn't move the foot resting on his shoulder even when Izuku turned his head to glare. Tomura wore a snarky, satisfied smile, "Whatcha doin'?"

"Working." Izuku grunted, pushing away Tomura's feet, "Did you forget I'm not just here just to be your personal plaything?"

"Everyone is here to be my personal plaything, Midoriya." Tomura spoke with the confident air of someone who'd never been told no. Izuku rolled his eyes, thinking of Kacchan again. He'd thought of him more than usual, wondering how he was doing on the practical exam. What obstacles was he effortlessly overcoming? Would he immediately be singled out as a prodigy—the one to watch in a group of elites? Did he spare a second thought for the now-presumed dead boy who wanted so desperately to be there, testing alongside him?

"Hey," Tomura started. Izuku was so lost in his thoughts, mumbling away, that he didn't notice he was sitting up now, his eyes tight with indecipherable emotion. He was gravely serious, red eyes blazing. "Fuck that guy. Fuck UA. Fuck them all."

Izuku couldn't hold Tomura's gaze for long because his eyes were welling with unwelcome tears. He turned his head, rubbing his wet eyes in shame. Tomura responded by closing Izuku's laptop and putting it unceremoniously on an end table. Tomura cleared his throat—an indication that he wanted Izuku's attention, but he refused to look at him. Even so, Tomura spoke, "Midoriya, do you trust me?"

Izuku nodded in answer, and he felt Tomura's partially gloved hand close around his wrist, and gently—so gentle he could hardly believe it was his snarky, impatient friend—pull him to his feet.

"I have something for you. Something to cheer you up."

They passed through the warp gate together, Midoriya silent and sad beside him, his wrist still trapped in Tomura's light grasp. Tomura was surprised Midoriya hadn't asked a single question about where they were going or what they were doing. That worried Tomura more than he wanted to admit to himself. Midoriya knew very little about his master and Tomura slightly dreaded their first meeting. He had Kurogiri warp them to the alley just outside Master's hideout, so Tomura could prep both Midoriya and himself for what was going to happen. He let go of Midoriya's wrist, setting out to carefully remove his gloves. Izuku watched him, a question growing in his wide green eyes. Master won't like them, he thinks, answering his unspoken question with an unspoken answer. Sometimes, Tomura wondered what it would be like if Midoriya had a mind-reading Quirk. Surely, having his thoughts and feeling pulled out of his head and splayed out for Midoriya would be much easier—and far less terrifying—than voicing them himself. He pushed those thoughts away as he stuffed the thin gloves in his back pocket.

"Midoriya, listen carefully. When we go in there, only speak when spoken to. No mumbling, got it?"

"Tomura, what—" Midoriya started. Tomura held up a hand to silence him.

"Call me Shigaraki. And call him sir," he said with finality. He was determined to keep the nervous edge out of his voice. He didn't want Midoriya to pick up on it.

"Who?" Midoriya seemed to shrink, looking as small as he did the day Kurogiri brought him to the bar, fresh off a suicide attempt.

"We're going to meet my master."

Midoriya flinched, and Tomura automatically held his wrist again—this time with a pinky raised resolutely away from the soft skin of Midoriya's wrist—as if to keep him from running away. Tomura suppressed a small, edgy sigh, "You trust me, right?"

He asked him a second time, partially because he wanted confirmation that he wouldn't fuck this up, and partially because he reveled in the fact that Midoriya hardly had to think about it before saying yes, he did.

Tomura nodded in approval, "Good."

He let go of Midoriya's wrist, opting for a much less friendly grip just above the crook of his arm. He roughly pushed Midoriya along, deeper into the alley and through the heavy door.

"Tomura, its been a while," Master said. Tomura was grateful for the fact that he seemed to be in a good mood. He knew his master would never hurt him, but he also knew from their brief talks in the last few months that he didn't care for Midoriya in the slightest. Kurogiri had already warned Tomura to tread lightly where Midoriya was concerned—and though he resented being told what to do by Kurogiri, it was nice to know that he saw their newest recruit's potential.

"Yes, Master. I brought Midoriya with me too," he said evenly, walking from the shadowed corners of the room into Master's line of sight. He looked strong and imposing despite the life support gear he was perpetually hooked into.

" Hmph. Midoriya Izuku," Master said, sounding bored and slightly annoyed. Tomura was so nervous he wanted to scratch his neck until he bled. Instead, he settled for tightening his grip on Midoriya's arm, but he stopped as soon as he let out a little whimper.

"Well, bring him here then," Master said, still bored but with the beginnings of that charismatic edge in his voice that he turned on and off so easily. That was good. He wanted to get this over with, to get to the part where Midoriya would thank him for getting his mind off of fucking Kacchan . He hated hearing Midoriya mumble that stupid nickname.

He started to walk Midoriya forward, just enough to be within his master's reach. Tomura was mortified by the way Midoriya flinched away from Master's hand and into his chest, grabbing at Tomura's thin black shirt for comfort. He was so scared. Part of him felt guilty about that, but he figured a healthy dose of fear was good for Midoriya. He was getting so bold, high on the notion that he couldn't be killed.

It'll be okay, Midoriya, he thought, again trying to will him to hear his thoughts, as he forced him to face his master. Thankfully, Midoriya didn't cry out or whimper when Master touched him, placing a large hand over his face.

When Midoriya crumpled, unconscious, Tomura didn't hesitate to catch him before he could hit the floor. His head lolled, settling in the crook of tomuras neck as he carried him to the cot on the other side of the room. The worst was over for him. When he woke up again, he would be in his own bed, waking to the best gifts Tomura had to give him.

"Tomura." Master's voice was thick with disapproval. He always let him do whatever he wanted, but he never hesitated to make it known exactly what he thought he should do. Tomura schooled his face into a blank stare, ready for whatever Master had to say, "Master?" He sounded too innocent.

"Kurogiri has… troubling things to say about Midoriya Izuku."

Tomura suppressed a groan. It was easy to forget that Kurogiri was always watching and waiting to rat him out, what with the way he hardly ever spoke, and he could never tell exactly where his eyes were looking.

"That's why I picked these Quirks," he said, attempting to bypass any conversation about the fact that Midoriya was a depressed cry baby, or that he was too soft-hearted to really be a villain.

"And if they don't take?" Master asked, gentler —almost pitying— and suddenly Tomura knew exactly what "troubling" things Kurogiri had to say. He remembered all the times he'd let his touch linger on Midoriya, or how much he'd been fucking blushing in the last five or six months. Kurogiri was always there, making mental notes. Fucker.

Tomura could still try to rectify this. He turned to his master, a sinister grin pulling at his cracked lips, "Then I'll kill him." Midoriya would reset and be completely fine, he wouldn't become a living doll, or the base for a Nomu.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked in a way that told Tomura that no was the correct answer, but he was never faulted for making his own decisions.

"Yes master."

"Even though he has limited lives?"

Master was attempting to shock him, to betray any sense of affection he might have. Tomura was treading very carefully, "Limited stock, huh? Just like a video game."

"More like a cat, I should think. Nine lives."

"Minus two," he said, as nonchalant as possible.

"Even so, it's a very useful Quirk. Perfect for a Nomu." He was toying with him now, trying get him to say what he already knew. What he didn't know was the fact that Tomura could hardly admit to himself that he cared about anyone other than himself—he surely wasn't going to admit it to anyone else.

"Can't use his brain if he's brainless, right?" Tomura said, impressed by his effortless reasoning, "You always say that's what I need more of. You know, foresight, strategy."

Tomura knew he got his way, so he fell silent, looking back at the sleeping boy in front of him. Midoriya had a strong mind, and he was still young enough to allow the Quirks to grow with him. Tomura had no doubt that he could carry the weight of three Quirks.

"Alright, Tomura. You win," Master said, his voice much closer behind him. He placed his hand on Midoriya's freckled face again, "Then let's get started."

Tomura started scratching his neck at the three hour mark. At six hours, he started disintegrating small things around the bar to ease his tension. At hour eight, around two in the morning, Midoriya finally opened his eyes. Tomura released his first full breath since hour five. It bothered him how affected he was at the thought of Midoriya opening his eyes and Tomura seeing no signs of life in them. Midoriya looked worn the fuck out, but he was still in there.

"T-Shigaraki?" Midoriya whispered, his head lolling in Tomura's direction. He was sitting on an old fold out chair Tomura used in his room before he got the couch.

"You can call me Tomura, dork," he said, not enough snark in his voice. He sounded annoyingly fond.

"What happened?"

"I got you a gift. Two gifts, actually." Now that Midoriya was alive and well, Tomura could be smug.

"You're so thoughtful sometimes," Midoriya said, the ghost of a giggle falling from his lips. Tomura grumbled, looking away and scratching his neck.

"So nervous around me, To-chan. Always scratching."

Tomura immediately stopped scratching, "Shut up, dweeb."

" Dweeb? " Midoriya snorted, eyes rolling in his head. He hardly seemed fully conscious. "Don't be embarrassed. I was nervous too," he dissolved into breathy laughter, "I felt like I was meeting my boyfriend's dad for the first time. And he hated me!"

Tomura reddened. "You're delirious."

"Yeah, I don't feel so great."

"Rest then, brat." Tomura was so worried about Midoriya earlier that he might even let him sleep past ten tomorrow.

"My gifts?" Midoriya mumbled, trying and failing for a complete sentence.

"You'll see, Midoriya. Now, go the fuck to sleep," Tomura mumbled, a small smile creeping up the corners of his mouth. He knew Midoriya was strong—now he would make him see it for himself.


	4. Chapter 4

"Congratulations, Bakugo Katsuki! Welcome to UA, your hero academia!" All Might bellowed from the projected video on his wall. Katsuki still couldn't believe it— just kidding, he absolutely could. He was talented and driven, with a badass Quirk literally made for that stupid practical exam. He knew even while he was in the exam, blowing up robots and counting his points, that he would be in the top five. No one had his confidence, his reflexes, his flawlessly strategic mind. He was the top scorer out of 800 hero hopefuls. Once again, he proved he was the best.

_You don't deserve it._ In the last few months, Katsuki was plagued by a nagging voice in the back of his head that sounded a lot like Deku.

Of course he deserved to be number one. He personally spent more time practicing than he spent sleeping. He drove himself into the ground studying for the written exam, taking countless practice tests. Getting the top score on the exams had nothing to do with luck.

_I deserve this._

It'd been a long time since Deku disappeared, and all the evidence that he ever existed at all was steadily disappearing. It was rare to see his missing poster now; the ones that were left were just as forgotten as the boy himself, crumpled or soggy from the weather, or covered up by want ads on bulletin boards.

In the first few months of his disappearance, the kids at school often brought him up. They would wonder aloud what happened to Quirkless Midoriya.

"Aren't you worried about him, Bakugo?" Wings asked, maybe fives weeks after Deku was declared missing.

"Yeah, he used to be your friend. What do you think happened to him?" Fingers added when it seemed like Katsuki wasn't going to say anything.

"Don't know. Don't care," he grumbled, daring them to keep talking.

"Don't you think you went overboard? I mean, what if he really did jump off a building?"

Katsuki froze, fingers twitching, enraged. "Fuck off!"

The last thing Katsuki heard before stomping off was Wings, in a small, guilty voice saying, "If that was the case, the cops would've found his body by now." It was the same thing Katsuki told himself every time the guilt threatened to swallow him whole. That was the last time his followers said anything about Deku, but the gossip surrounding his disappearance cropped up in so many other conversations.

"Wherever he is I hope he's okay," some girl in his class spoke, her eyes lowered with feigned concern, as if he hadn't seen her laugh whenever someone tripped Deku in the hallway.

"Wherever he is has to be better than here. At least Bakugo and his goons can't hurt him anymore."

Katsuki gripped his pencil as tight as he could without snapping it in half, his stubby nails making half moons in the soft wood.

Everyone wanted to talk about Deku like he was some treasure to be missed. Until one day, the need to make themselves feel better about not giving a shit about some Quirkless idiot gave weigh to actually not giving a shit again. It seemed like every kid in his class had met up in some clandestine meeting Katsuki wasn't invited to where they all decided to never speak about Izuku Midoriya again. Mostly, Katsuki was relieved, but a small part of him—the guilty part, the part that couldn't reconcile with actually losing his oldest friend—feared the day he forgot to remember along with them.

Katsuki stood in front of the giant fucking door to classroom 1-A. He took a deep breath through his nose, steeling himself for the first day of the most important years of his life, the starting line to becoming the world's greatest hero. He pushed open the door, taking in the few classmates who managed to get there before him. There was a tall guy with glasses that moved like he had a stick up his ass, a guy with spiky red hair and a pointy smile, a girl with short purple hair and aux cords dangling from her ears, and someone with a mass of curly green hair…. To say that Katsuki was rattled was an understatement.

"_Deku?!"_ Katsuki stomped forward to grab his shoulder, only to come face to face with penetrating golden eyes set into a face completely devoid of any freckles. The cords of thick muscle were apparent under the blazer, too, now that Katsuki was paying better attention. If Katsuki hadn't been so shaken up by what he thought was a fucking ghost there to haunt him, he would've noticed that this guy was not Deku in the slightest.

"I'm Shirukoto Yoichiro," the green-haired stranger said, a voice like molten gold. He was calm despite Katsuki's outburst. The guy coiled his rough fingers around the wrist that was still connected to his shoulder, attempting to free himself from Katsuki's grasp. He turned his head in interest, a smug smile pulling at the corners of his lips, "Who's Deku?"

The gesture was so familiar to Katsuki he couldn't help but think about when he was twelve. Back before Deku got the hint that he had no business even speaking to Katsuki. Back before Katsuki had to physically harm him to keep him away.

"Kacchan, wait up!" The pitter patter of Deku's red shoes on the concrete had Katsuki grinding his teeth. They took the same route home every day, and every day Katsuki made a point of leaving without Deku, and still he chased after him. That particular day, Katsuki was in a foul mood (more so than usual), and Deku looked so happy to see him, his face open the way only Deku's could be. And Katsuki snapped.

He grabbed Deku's uniform and forcefully pinned him to the nearest wall, "Leave me the fuck alone, stupid Deku!"

Even though Katsuki had just slammed his head into a wall, even though his feet were nearly off the ground, Deku looked at him with those big, sad eyes like he knew exactly what Katsuki was thinking. Like he pitied him for it.

"Please, Kacchan," he said in that low, whiny way he only used with Katsuki, and he couldn't help but look at the way his mouth curled around his nickname. Katsuki cursed the flutter in his stomach, cursed Deku for awakening something wrong and complicated and wholly unwelcome inside him. Deku placed a light hand on the clenched fist crumpling his uniform, but it wasn't a surrender. He was standing up to him, looking down on him. Just seeing how far he could go before Katsuki broke and melted into him. Well, Katsuki wouldn't break for anyone, and Deku would learn that the hard way.

Katsuki blinked, pulled out of his vivid memory by his yellow-eyed classmate's low whistle, "That's a lot of complicated emotion before 8 am. No wonder you're wound so fuckin' tight."

"HAH? Wha—" Katsuki started, palms popping with small explosions. He was about to blast that smug smile off his shitty face when a heavy hand chopped at the air between them.

"Language!" Glasses admonished both of them while attempting to restrain Katsuki.

It took two more of his classmates and his homeroom teacher's arrival to keep Katsuki from getting into a full-blown fight on his first day of school. He sat in his desk, eye twitching every now and then as he processed what that green-haired extra said to him. Was Katsuki making some pained expression thinking of Deku? He had to admit, he felt entirely lost in that memory. It was the beginning of the end for them—at least to Deku. After that day, after Katsuki threw him in the dirt and singed his uniform, Deku stopped inserting himself into Katsuki's life. He was always there—a constancy Katsuki thought he hated until he wasn't around anymore—just on the fringes, keeping to himself.

That day didn't just change his relationship to Deku. It changed Deku's relationship to the whole school. It was like Katsuki physically harming Deku gave everyone else permission to harm him. At first, Katsuki only shoved or hit Deku when he got too close for comfort—as if he was trying to weasel his way back into Katsuki's good graces—but soon Katsuki found himself seeking it out and leading the charge against Deku. He craved it. It was like the only release he ever got was when he was pushing Deku further away from him.

Now, there was no release. Only a year's worth of pent-up frustration and a lifetime's worth of regret and remorse. And worst of all, knowing that if Deku never disappeared, Katsuki would've kept on doing it without a care in the world.

In the year or so since Deku disappeared, Katsuki found himself wondering what would've happened when they left middle school. Surely, Quirkless Deku wouldn't be able to follow him to UA. So, what then? Before he disappeared, Katsuki couldn't actually fathom not seeing Deku every day, no matter how much he wanted that to be a reality. It was hard to imagine Deku growing up, giving up on his heroic dreams, and going on to work some unremarkable job. Sometimes, when Katsuki was trying way too hard to make himself feel better—to rid himself of the bone-deep guilt he felt—he told himself that maybe it was better that Deku died before having to give up on his dreams.

"Bakugo, are you listening?" The guy with the spiked, red hair (one of the guys that had to hold him back earlier) asked, pulling Katsuki from his daze. He put a gym uniform on his desk, looking apprehensive.

"Of course I was," Katsuki snapped, even though he had no fucking clue what was happening.

"Mr. Aizawa told us to suit up and meet in the training yard," Shitty Hair said, a small smile growing on his face. Katsuki didn't know this guy or anything, but he could already tell smiling was his default. _How annoying._

Despite the off start to the day, Katsuki found himself enjoying the Quirk test. It was fun showing off and making sure his classmates knew exactly who he was. Everyone was so impressed with each other, asking about their Quirks, and praising the top scorers in each category. Katsuki didn't pay much attention to his classmates, except for one. Without his permission, his eyes kept wandering to the guy with messy green hair. Everything about him pissed Katsuki off. His Quirk didn't present physically like everyone else in Class 1-A. Unfortunately, it didn't keep him from keeping up with everyone. It was pretty clear that Shirukoto Yoichiro wouldn't be the one expelled at the end of the day. Even though he was on the small side, he was strong and fast. Katsuki overheard him talking about the martial arts classes he was taking.

"Only a fool would rely solely on their Quirk to get them into the best hero school in the country," he said, to a group of people who surely did just that. Smug bastard.

The more Katsuki looked at him, the less he looked like Deku. If Deku ever had any muscle, he'd probably be built like Shirukoto, but aside from the color of their hair, that's where the similarities ended. Shirukoto's hair stood up in messy tufts on top of his head, revealing a dramatic widow's peak that made the jagged angles of his cheekbones and jawline that much sharper. Deku had a freckled baby face, and he was incapable of the easy-going, self-assured smirk Shirukoto wore. To Katsuki, Shirukoto was a cheap imitation of the person he grew up with.

Bakugo was more than glad for their classes first battle exercise. He hardly remembered anyone's name or Quirk yet, so being teamed up with Glasses kind of sucked, but he was ready to blow off some steam. And who better to take it out on than this surrogate Deku? The moment All Might started the fifteen minute countdown for the exercise, Bakugo was on the move, despite Glasses' protests about splitting up. When he finally found his opponents wandering around on the second floor a rush of excitement thrummed in his chest and radiated out to his fingertips. He was alert and alive and ready to win.

"Uraraka, find the weapon. I can take care of Bakugo on my own," that green-haired idiot said. Katsuki jumped, firing off a small explosion to get their attention. At the last second, Shirukoto pushed Round Face's shoulder to keep her from getting hit square in the chest. She kept running, but Katsuki knew Glasses could probably handle her on his own.

"Just you and me then," Katsuki snarled, lighting up his palms to strike. Shirukoto avoided the blast and managed to use Katsuki's own momentum to flip him head over heels. He would pay for that. His back slammed into the ground, spit flying from his mouth as he groaned from the shock of it. By the time he got up, Shirukoto was running.

"Get back here, shitty coward!"

Was he trying to waste Katsuki's time? He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but he refused to let the timer run out without at least immobilizing that broccoli-headed fuck.

Katsuki used his Quirk to propel him forward meeting Shirukoto in a dead end corridor. For someone who was cornered, he looked incredibly smug.

"Have you figured out my quirk yet, _Kacchan?"_

Katsuki was taken aback by hearing his childhood nickname aloud for the first time in over a year. The voice was all wrong though, a sneer like that could never come out of Deku's mouth. Katsuki roared, charging at Shirukoto only to be expertly redirected and kicked away from him. He narrowly avoided having his feet swept out from under him.

"That's what he called you right? What was his name again? Deku?" Shirukoto cackled.

"Shut up!" Katsuki bellowed, finally landing a heated punch to Shirukoto's gut. He sputtered in response, but recovered quickly, managing to laugh through it.

"That all you got? I may look a bit like Deku, but I can take a hit. Could he?" The way Shirukoto asked the question told Katsuki that he somehow already knew the answer. Did he know Deku? Did he tell him about everything Katsuki ever did to him? What the fuck was going on?

Katsuki only grunted, another exploding palm sailing toward Shirukoto, but Katsuki was distracted. He gave him an opening. Shirukoto turned slightly sideways, getting in close to elbow Katsuki in the chest, and in the few seconds it took Katsuki to recover, Shirukoto deliberately brushed a hand across Katsuki's bare arm.

"Didn't think so. So you definitely weren't sparring buddies. What, then? Boyfriends?" Shirukoto laughed, his gold eyes glinting with mirth.

Then finally, Katsuki remembered Shirukoto's cold, rough hand on his wrist that first day of class, the first time he asked about Deku, his knowing smirk. Suddenly, Shirukoto brushing his hand on his arm just now started to make sense. That had to be his Quirk at work. _Mind reading, but only through physical contact?_ How many more times had he touched him during this fight?

"Looks like you finally figured it out. Now what, hothead?"

_Now, you die, _Katsuki thought gearing up to take Shirukoto out. He went for another right hook, waiting for his opponent to try to flip him again. When Shirukoto took the bait Katsuki twisted in his grip, ignited his palms for a smokescreen and—got punched in the jaw.

Of course, Shirukoto was touching the skin of his arm. He probably knew exactly what Katsuki was trying to do the second he grabbed him. Katsuki lay flat on his back, a little dazed. Shirukoto laughed, giddy on the high of winning, as he bound Katsuki's legs together with the capture tape.

"Try not to let this bruise your ego too much, man. We should do this again sometime!" He ran off just as the the receiver in his ear crackled to life and All Might, sounding _apologetic,_ told him to come back to the viewing room. _Fuck._

The loss alone would be enough to put him in a rage, but the things Shirukoto said to him shook him to his core. Before yesterday, he hadn't heard a single person mention Deku in months, and now he was having to dodge questions about him while also dodging attacks. He figured he'd escaped any and all chances for Izuku Midoriya to ever be mentioned in his presence again when he left middle school. How could he have weaseled his way into UA, of all places? Katsuki's chest was tight as he made his way back to the viewing room.

When Glasses, Round Face, and fucking Shirukoto came back to the viewing room Katsuki was still sulking, hardly paying any attention to his surroundings.

"Hey, Bakugo, no hard feelings, right? I hope I didn't hit too below the belt talking about your friend," Shirukoto said, breezily, flashing him a charismatic smile. It was almost as if he were a completely different person from the one Katsuki just fought. He glared into his stupid yellow eyes, but Shirukoto kept talking, "What can I say? I like to win by any means necessary. Seems like you can probably relate."

Shirukoto grabbed his bare shoulder and he reacted violently, twisting so as to pin him against the wall by his shoulders.

"Don't fucking touch me," he bellowed, almost hysterical at the thought of sharing his memories of Deku with anyone, of anyone knowing the guilt and shame he carried around with him. Shirukoto was pinned to the wall, but for a second all Katsuki could see was Deku.

"What is your problem? It was just and exercise."

Despite all his yelling, Shirukoto's hand maintained contact with Katsuki's skin, and it was very obvious that he was seeing everything Katsuki thought. Shirukoto tilted his head, like he was trying to solve a puzzle without all the pieces and _hmmm- _ed gently. His Quirk seemed to have answered his own question.

Before Katsuki could even think about not thinking, a thousand images of Deku raced through his mind: Katsuki and Izuku playing heroes together, the wonder in Izuku's eyes when Katsuki showed him his Quirk for the first time, the look of hurt on his freckled face when he told him to jump off the roof, the photo on his missing poster burning away, set aflame by a stray explosion. Deku was his problem—always was, and it seemed like he always would be.

"I'm sorry," Shirukoto said, his voice a little lower. To his credit, he sounded like he meant it, but Katsuki didn't want to give him any credit.

Katsuki growled, adjusting his grip on Shirukoto so he could shake the pity out of him. He didn't need it or want it.

"Stay the fuck out of my head! If you ever bring him up again, I swear I'll fucking end you," Katsuki growled, letting his anger consume him. For as frequently and casually as said things like "die" and "I'll kill you," this time he felt like he might be serious. Katsuki didn't even like being in his own head; he didn't want someone else in it.

"That's not a very heroic thing to say, Bakugo," Shitty Hair said from close behind him in gentle admonishment. He'd almost forgot that his entire class—and fucking All Might, Jesus Christ—was in the room. He let go of Shirukoto, slightly mortified at what just transpired, but too angry to fully process anything.

"Young Bakugo, perhaps you should… go to the nurse's office? Wait for me there." It was clear that All Might was not prepared for this aspect of teaching. Honestly, what teacher was?

Bakugo scoffed, shrugging off Kirishima's attention and removing himself from the room. He changed out of his hero costume, dragging his feet and hiding in the locker room for as long as possible because the old lady in the nurse's office creeped him out. He made his way out of the locker room only minutes before class was supposed to end so he could avoid the people who not only witnessed him get his ass handed to him, but also saw him completely lose his shit.

The old nurse made him sit on one of the cots to wait for All Might, healed the blooming bruise on his chin, and gave him a sucker. She only tried to speak to him once or twice, but clearly took the hint when Katsuki's responses were, at best, hostile grunts.

"Young Bakugo, come with me, please," All might said, standing in the doorway of the nurse's office. Katsuki didn't speak, but he unwrapped his sucker and followed All Might down the hall. Neither of them spoke until they were sitting in the staff room.

All Might cleared his throat. "Here, have some tea."

"I don't want any."

All Might looked a little taken aback, but let the impolite sleight go, and barreled on. "Young Bakugo, I wanted to talk to you about everything that was said during the training exercise… and after."

Katsuki narrowed his eyes and pointedly kept his gaze on All Might, no matter how much he wanted to look at his shoes in shame. When he said nothing, All Might continued, "Your classmates may not have heard what Young Shirukoto was saying, but I did. I wanted to make sure you were alright."

"I'm great. I'm one step closer to surpassing you as the number one hero," Katsuki said, attempting to bypass any conversation about a boy no one knew. What would be the point of talking about Deku anymore?

"Of course, my boy. But—well, based on what Young Shirukoto told me, I believe we have a common acquaintance."

"What did that mind-reading fuck tell you?" Katsuki snarled, forgetting who he was talking to. When All Might narrowed his eyes, a small warning, Katsuki added, _"... Sir."_

"Mostly that you shouldn't be punished for attacking a student outside of training. That it was his fault for using his Quirk to provoke you. That he plans to apologize to you for using your missing friend against you."

Katsuki stiffened at the word friend. It was hardly an appropriate word for what Katsuki and Deku were. Katsuki grunted in response. It was all he could manage at the moment.

"Is the boy you call _Deku_ Midoriya Izuku?"

Katsuki snapped to attention, fixing All Might with a piercing glare, a warning of his own. How did he know Deku?

"I—I've been paying special attention to his case. I know the detective assigned to the case," All Might said, seemingly as a means of explanation, but it didn't explain anything.

"Why do you care about what happened to Deku?"

"I'm a hero. Hero's always care!" All Might said with an air of bravado that rang false to Katsuki's ears.

"Kids go missing every day. Why is Deku _special? "_ Katsuki noticed the rage building in his voice, the way he spat the words out like it sickened him to hold them in. All Might sighed, looking more tired than he'd ever seen the legendary Symbol of Peace look.

"Last year, the sludge villain that attacked you also attacked young Midoriya, maybe an hour before. I was able to save him."

Katsuki was dumbstruck. Why didn't he know anything about that? Surely, his mom knew. His mom knew everything about Deku's case, and was incredibly tight-lipped about it. Probably because she didn't know how Katsuki would react.

"I didn't know that." It was hard for Katsuki to admit it, but he was slowly realizing he didn't know anything about Deku. He could only imagine how pathetic he looked that day. He was so helplessly Quirkless. _I bet he still managed to get an autograph, though._ He almost chuckled thinking about his obnoxious fanboy tendencies.

"Yes, well, I've managed to keep that out of the press. I just wanted you to know that if you need to talk to someone, I am here. And I haven't forgotten about your friend. We will find him."

There was something All Might was avoiding, some part of meeting Deku that didn't sit well with him. Katsuki was well-acquainted with guilt, and even more well-acquainted with denial. Katsuki couldn't contain the accusation that flew from his mouth, unbidden.

"What did you do?"

All Might looked stricken and Katsuki would be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying it. For the first time in over a year, the voice in the back of his head was quiet. It was the voice that sounded like Deku. The voice that screamed, _this is all your fault_. For the first time in over a year, Katsuki might have someone he could shove the blame on, and that was enthralling.

"He told me he was Quirkless, and that he'd been picked on in school. He told me that all he wanted in the world was to be a hero and save people," All Might said, his eyes far away.

"And you told him he couldn't do it."

_Just like everyone else in his life._

"I believe I was the last person to see him alive. His case has gone cold, but I won't rest until I know what happened to him."

"He's dead." Every time Katsuki said that aloud he believed it a little more. It was the only logical conclusion. If Deku was alive he wouldn't stay away. He loved his mom way too much to hurt her like that.

"Part of being a good hero is coming to terms with the fact that you can't save everyone. But I could've saved him, and I didn't."

Hearing All Might say that—hearing him speak with such regret—managed to make Katsuki feel all the more guilty. So much for shoving the blame onto someone else's shoulders. Katsuki knew without a doubt that he would carry the weight of his guilt for the rest of his life because without everything Katsuki did, Deku would've never needed saving.

Since all the drama surrounding the first mock battle matchups, pretty much everyone avoided Katsuki. In class, in the halls, during breaks in the courtyard he was alone. That was fine with him. The less people probing into his life, the better. There was only one person he couldn't seem to shake—and that was so annoyingly familiar. Kirishima seemed determined to be Katsuki's friend. He kept staring at Katsuki as if he was waiting for the chance to make eye contact just so he could smile at him with his bright, sharky teeth.

So when he sat down with him at lunch, Katsuki was only mildly surprised. What was really surprising to him was that even when Katsuki unleashed his most brutal scowl from hell to try to keep him away, Kirishima seemed unfazed.

"Scary face, man. You gonna eat that apple?" Kirishima fixed him with toothy smile than never seemed to waver. He scoffed and threw the apple at him with more force than necessary. They ate in silence for a good, almost comfortable ten minutes. And then Shitty Hair ruined it.

"So… who's Deku?" Kirishima asked, hesitant. Katsuki grip on his chopsticks tightened.

"No one." Katsuki's eyes narrowed, silently warning Kirishima to cease and desist.

"Sure doesn't seem like no one," he said, his voice a teasing sing-song, "Come, on man! Secrets aren't manly."

Katsuki rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help but marvel at the easy way Kirishima spoke to him. Had anyone ever been so nonchalant where he was concerned?

"He's just some idiot I went to middle school with," he said with an air of finality.

"Just like I'm some idiot you go to high school with?" His perpetual smile widened.

"Exactly, Shitty Hair. Now, fuck off and eat your rice."

"Oh, I'm done. You can have it." He emptied his remaining rice into Katsuki's bowl and began again, "So, he's a friend."

" No. "

"Okay, so like… not a boyfriend or anything?"

"Jesus fucking Christ, no. I don't have a fucking boyfriend."

_Why does everyone keep asking me that? Do I have a fucking sticker on my forehead that says "gay?"_ The thought had Katsuki absently, angrily rubbing his forehead.

"Oh!" Kirishima perked up, "That's great!"

Katsuki raised an eyebrow at him, and he turned a color almost as red as his spiked hair. "I just mean, me neither! Wingmen or whatever, right?" he said, awkward and stumbling over his words. Katsuki wasn't sure what he was more unnerved by: the fact that Kirishima might be hitting on him, or the fact that he just assumed he was gay. Katsuki seethed for another minute before standing up from their shared table and hastening out of the cafeteria.

He ducked into a bathroom after he found he couldn't walk any further from the cafeteria. He was starting to hyperventilate, his breath an angry wheeze. He started counting backwards from ten, and then upwards—timing his breathing, the way his mother taught him to when he was young and his tantrums lead to extensive property damage if gone unchecked. He was at his wit's end. Three days of school at UA and he felt like he was drowning, but it wasn't the coursework or the practical training, it was the people.

Like always, people drained him. He hated new places only because they inevitably came with new people, and new people were almost always friendly and curious. And now, thanks to his stunningly embarrassing and idiotic outburst yesterday, people were curious about Deku. And what Deku meant to him. And his sexuality, apparently. Before Katsuki could fully get a handle on his anger—or was it panic?—a blaring alarm sounded.

"What the fuck?" Katsuki mumbled to himself, shaking off the last of his unwelcome thoughts.

He walked back out into the hallway and was immediately swept into a sea of students trying to get to the emergency exits. People were shoving and shouting about a security breach, about how rare the drills were, so this must be real. Katsuki stayed close to the wall, looking for a way out of the clusterfuck. It was almost like he was being carried away in the direction of the the crowd. The lack of control bothered him, but he was trying to keep his cool in the sea of idiots.

He was just tall enough to see over the chaos, and a familiar head of green hair caught his attention for what felt like the thousandth fucking time in three days. The back of Shirukoto's head was visible away front the throng of panicking students, walking away from the emergency exit route, and into the records office.

As far as Katsuki knew, the records office was off-limits to students. Did Shirukoto pull some alarm to get into the records office without getting caught?

At the end of the day, Katsuki followed Shirukoto until they were off campus. Almost as soon as they were out of the gates, he grabbed the back collar of his blazer and dragged him into a secluded alley.

"Bakugo?" Shirukoto sounded taken aback as he straightened his tie and blazer.

"What are you up to?" Katsuki growled, shoving his hands in his pockets to keep himself from shoving the smaller boy in front of him.

"Going to the train station." His voice was level—the calm annoyed Katsuki to no end.

"Don't be fucking stupid. I saw you go into the records office today. Did you set off the alarm?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, wary of Katsuki's darkening mood. Katsuki grabbed the lapels of his blazer and shoved him in response. Katsuki got the idea that Shirukoto was allowing himself to be pushed around because he seemed unfazed, and recovered quickly. He held up his arms in surrender.

"I promise Bakugo. I was with Kirishima and Kaminari, getting trampled near the cafeteria. Look, I can show you." He slowly reached for Katsuki's wrist with an open palm. Katsuki flinched, but allowed the contact.

He could see Dumb Hair and Sparky squished together amid a sea of students, while Glasses soared overhead and into a wall, screaming about order. He might've been interested to know that Shirukoto's Quirk worked both ways if his head wasn't so full of questions.

If Shirukoto was there, then who did he see in the records office? Was there yet another imitation of a Deku running around UA? Or was Katsuki just losing his goddamn mind?

"You look like you've seen a ghost, Bakugo," Shirukoto said with the mix of pity and condescension Bakugo had come to associate with his mind-reading classmate. Shirukoto let go of Katsuki's wrist, patting it in an awkward attempt to be consoling.

_Maybe I did._


	5. Chapter 5

The League owned a string of warehouses in Kamino ward, and that was where they did most of their training—if training could be described as intensive goofing off with intermittent bouts of cardio, weight training, and Tomura dropping pearls of villainous wisdom.

"I like this Quirk, Tomura," Izuku said, the wonder apparent in his voice, moving his arms this way and that to admire the black sheen of energy that covered him like a second skin. It was an odd feeling, having a Quirk he could turn on and off. He didn't expect to feel so powerful even when it wasn't activated. It was like a thrumming, a second heartbeat he could feel on every inch of himself, just underneath his skin. No wonder Kacchan and Tomura were so drunk with power. If Izuku was born with this Quirk, if he'd been born feeling like he was alive and on fire every second of every day for nearly sixteen years, he'd probably be a bit of an ass too. The thought made him chuckle.

"I knew you would," Tomura said, trying to be smug, but Izuku could see the genuine fondness underneath it. Izuku didn't know if he was getting better at reading Tomura, or if Tomura's guard was coming down. Either way, he liked it. He'd already thanked Tomura a thousand times, so much so that he threatened to disintegrate his laptop if he said it again. Instead, he'd started saying, "I appreciate it."

"Yeah, yeah. Stop ogling yourself. It's time to practice."

"Aye, aye, boss." Izuku gave a mock salute. "What's first?"

"Hit me," Tomura said, visibly psyching himself up.

"Eh?"

"You heard me. Your Quirk is offensive and defensive. It's time to see how well it works."

"I feel like this is a trap," Izuku said, incredulous. Still, he allowed the black energy to envelope him completely, covering himself in a protective barrier. Izuku likened it to wearing a pair of sunglasses, but all over his entire body. Maybe like wearing a helmet, since it was so protective. He was still working on the terminology in his Quirk page on his laptop.

"Stop being a baby and hit me, Midoriya. Don't be a— oof. "

Before Tomura could finish Izuku punched him in the gut—not as hard as he could've, but Barrier obviously packed a punch. He was tentatively calling his new Quirk Barrier, he was hoping a flashier name would come to him soon, but the name was growing on him just like the Quirk itself. Tomura coughed a few times, holding his stomach. Izuku was caught between laughing and being concerned.

"Okay, don't do that again," Tomura said, trying and failing to not show his discomfort. Izuku laughed, a little drunk on his own machismo. Three Quirks . Since receiving Tomura's most generous gifts, he was constantly, incredulously, repeating those two words in the back of his head. It was as if the Quirks would disappear if he didn't remind himself of how lucky he was at least 30 times a day.

As far as daily use, Barrier was by far the most useful Quirk. The Quirk he was born with had it uses too, but ever since Tomura let him know that he only had seven lives left, he felt considerably less indestructible. His third Quirk was the most confusing to him. He knew Tomura hand picked it for him, and that fact was both thoughtful and disconcerting. Tomura told him the Quirk was called Heartless. He'd only used it out once so far, and that was enough for him. As far as he was concerned, it could stay as dormant as Nine Lives.

"Can you project it outside yourself yet?" Tomura asked once he regained his composure. Instead of answering, Izuku tried to push Barrier away from him to cover Tomura. The best he could do was slightly expand it, like a bubble it blew out before his nose started bleeding and he had to drop it.

"Don't push too hard. You've got some time." Sometimes Tomura sounded so laid back it was hard to reconcile him with the snappy, sarcastic person he'd come to know.

"How long?" Izuku asked. Tomura had been pretty tight-lipped about his plans, but Izuku knew he was gearing up for something. Sometimes Izuku would walk into the bar proper—Kurogiri finally stopped accompanying him every time he left—only to find Tomura and Kurogiri deep in hushed conversation, papers strewn all over the bartop. It bothered him that he was on the outs, but part of him knew why they kept him in the dark. If Izuku knew anything about Tomura, it's that he kept the more unsavory details of the League from him for his own good. Tomura was probably waiting for the last possible second to enlighten him so he couldn't back out or think too hard about it.

"A little more than a month. Think you can pull it together by then?" Again, Tomura was trying to be slightly sarcastic, but his sincerity was too visible.

Izuku focused as much as he could into punching towards Tomura's direction and allowing Barrier to follow the direction of his momentum. Though Izuku's fist didn't connect with Tomura's chest, Barrier did, successfully laying Tomura out. Izuku huffed a nervous laugh—the move sent a wave of pain that radiated from his fingertips to what felt like every neuron in his brain, but he managed to say, "I think so."

" Fuck me, " Tomura barked, curling into some semblance of the fetal position before sitting up. Despite the context of the phrase, Izuku turned red. Still, he scurried toward him to help him up, extending a hand toward his friend. Instead of accepting help Tomura shoved him hard, popping up quickly on his own.

"Wanna know the most important thing a villain should know?" Tomura said, rubbing sweat away from his face by running his hand through his shaggy hair. Izuku, splayed out on his back, gave this action way more attention than necessary. He was pleasantly surprised by Tomura's widow's peak. He never would've guess that was hiding under all that hair. He was so fixated on it he forgot to respond.

Tomura snapped his fingers in front of Izuku's face, impatient, "Hello?"

"Yes!" When in doubt, respond positively. Most of the time that worked where Tomura was concerned. Tomura raised an eyebrow—a gesture Izuku always had to search for under his mane of light blue hair. He scoffed, his crimson eyes locking with Izuku's.

"You gotta know when to run."

Izuku was silent, taking the time to get to his feet. He was hoping for something more… brave, daring? As if Tomura could read his mind, he guffawed and said, "I can see the excitement dying in your eyes, Midoriya. But think about logically. Heroes fight to the end, villains fight to win. Remember that."

Izuku considered that. Truly, there was nothing brave or heroic about running away, but there was something undeniably strategic about Tomura's words. Fighting smarter, not harder. Before Izuku could start muttering about the pros and cons of ducking and running, Tomura threw a water bottled at his head.

"Last one to the bar gets the shitty controller," Tomura said, more serious than he'd heard him be in while. He was already pushing past the heavy metal door when Izuku started running. Even without Tomura cheating, he knew he would be far behind. Tomura was surprising fast, and he seemed to enjoy distance running.

The idea that Izuku would be the perfect person to sneak into UA and gather as much information as possible seemed like a gross overestimation of Izuku's abilities and the decision seemed to hinge on one thing.

"Why me?" Izuku asked, incredulous. Thus far in his career as a villain, he'd only been trusted with information gathering and note taking, and that was just fine with him.

"Cause you're fifteen. You'll look like a student," Tomura said, as if it were the most self-evident fact in the world.

"You're eighteen. You could be a student too."

"Do I really look like I could pass for third-year heroics student to you?" Tomura asked, smirking like he knew he'd get his way (because he always did).

Izuku eyed Tomura's pale, scarred skin and thin physique before conceding, "No."

"Exactly. Besides, this won't fit me." he said, throwing a bundle of grey clothes with more force than necessary. Izuku caught them seconds before they hit him in the face.

"Where on earth did you get a UA uniform?" Izuku asked. He held the blazer against his chest, as if to check the fit.

"You really wanna know?"

Izuku gulped, his stomach twisting the way it always did when he was reminded of Tomura's dark side. "Probably not."

Tomura smiled, but there was no warmth behind it.

When the time came to put the plan into action, Izuku was a bundle of frayed nerves. The uniform barely fit him. The blazer was boxy and loose on his thin frame despite the small amount of muscle he'd gained in the last two months. The red tie was a messy knot around his neck (neither Tomura nor Izuku knew how to properly tie one) until Kurogiri, who seemed utterly insulted by the crumpled tie, expertly knotted it around his neck. Izuku was mesmerized, trying to watch his misty fingers at work below his chin.

"It's perfect!" Tomura was giddy. He pinched Izuku's freckled cheek and said, "No one can be suspicious of this baby face."

Izuku swatted his hand away, a small pout on his lips. He was less than ecstatic about wearing a UA uniform and walking the hallowed, heroic halls of the school of his dreams. It was perverse. It was a slap in the face, and Tomura didn't seem to understand that. He could be annoyingly single-minded when it came to his grand plan—a plan Izuku was undoubtedly intricately woven into while still possessing little to no knowledge of.

"Don't pout. Stay focused. Hide in the chaos," Tomura said.

"I know, I know."

"How much time?"

"15 minutes max. In and out."

"Good. What are you looking for?"

"Schedules, first. Student and teacher records if I have the time."

"Perfect. And remember don't take anything. It's got to look like we were never there."

"I know. " Izuku was exasperated. Tomura made him repeat the plan at least 4 different times over the course of the morning. It made Izuku feel more nervous, not more prepared.

They walked together to the gates of UA in similar hoodies. Izuku was sweating, both from the additional, stifling layers and the impending stress of breaking and entering.

Before they melded into the crown of angry news crews, Tomura stopped him with an ungloved hand on his shoulder, pointer finger hanging above the boxy, grey blazer. "Midoriya."

Izuku faced him, ready to be reminded of the plan one final time. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"You can do this. I wouldn't let you go in there if I didn't think you could do it." That was nice, and unexpectedly comforting. Izuku allowed himself a small, unsure smile.

"You trust me, right?" Tomura asked. Izuku nodded, feeling no need to give him verbal confirmation because it was a question he asked pretty often in the last two months. Izuku didn't know how to feel about Tomura's need to constantly confirm his trust in him. He felt it was due in part to the fact that he could weaponize it if need be.

"Good. I'm trusting you now. Good luck."

"Oh," was all he managed in reply before Tomura removed his hand and disappeared in the crowd. He was excellent at being nondescript, quickly melting into the flow of bodies. Izuku felt unmoored, abandoned at sea. Tomura's trust seemed like a rare treasure, fragile and one of a kind, probably heavily guarded and not given away lightly. It filled Izuku with a resolve stronger than the nervous energy currently ping ponging around in the pit of his stomach. Once the gate was down Izuku slipped in, all but invisible, rounding a corner so he could remove his hoodie, and shove it in his backpack.

He found it was really easy to fall in with the student milling about. It was surreal to see that he fit here to some extent. All the students were his age, full of bright eyed hope and heroism. Izuku missed that feeling more than anything. He hadn't felt anything like it since Kacchan told him to kill himself, since All Might told him to be realistic. But in another life it might've been entirely possible that he could be a student at UA, his backpack full of books, on his way to lunch with his classmates. He wondered if Kacchan was nearby. Izuku still didn't know if he was actually a student there, but he had a hard time imagining anyone standing between Kacchan and the future he demanded. What if he saw Izuku? He shuddered at the thought of the explosive implications, instinctively ducking his head and scrunching his shoulders, trying to appear small.

Izuku pushed those thoughts away, they were ultimately painful and useless to dwell on. Instead, he focused on the blaring alarm, counting with its pulsing rhythm to keep him grounded. The information the League had on UA was outdated. They had faded maps and building plans older than Izuku, but he was happy to find that the instructions they gave him—the ones Tomura made him say over and over again until he could recite it backwards and forwards in his sleep—seemed to be mostly correct. He weaved pretty effortlessly through the chaos, trying to channel Tomura's quiet confidence. Finally, the records office was in his sights, and Izuku took a small moment to be proud of himself before the hard part started.

To say that the records office an absolute mess would be putting it lightly. Every surface was filled with clutter: boxes full of stacked sheafs of paper, heavy binders with various labels and helpful color codes. Izuku heaved a sigh. He couldn't fathom why a place as advanced as UA was still keeping paper copies of important documents, but he thanked his lucky stars there would be no computers to impede his search. He set to work, noting that he had less than 10 minutes left.

You gotta know when to run.

"Did you get it?" Tomura asked when Izuku finally walked into the bar. He was tapping his fingers impatiently on the bar top. Was he worried? Nervous Izuku wouldn't come back? If he'd have know Tomura would be such a mess he would've taken a more straightforward route to the secluded alleyway Kurogiri was set to pick him up in. Izuku nodded, a little shaky from a stressful day's work. Tomura's answering smile did something weird to Izuku's stomach. He looked away, fidgeting with the strings of his sweatshirt. He couldn't help but feel like he'd finally proven himself—finally solidified his place in the League as a member and not just some kid that hung around the bar.

If Izuku were in a strange, alternate universe where Kurogiri and Tomura were excitable and expressive, this is the point where they would bang their fists on the bar top and chant, _one of us, one of us. _But this was real life, and it seemed Izuku was never really done proving himself, so instead, Kurogiri was silent, and Tomura waved him over.

"Let's see what you've got."

Izuku turned out his backpack, his messy handwritten notes spilling onto the bar. Tomura squinted at Izuku's chicken scrawl. He felt self-conscious—like he messed something up already. He scrambled to course-correct.

"I can type these out on my laptop so it's easier to read. Sorry, it's so messy."

Tomura shook his head.

"No time. Just read it to me. Schedules first, and then we can go over whatever else you got."

"Oh. Okay," Izuku said, taking a moment to breathe.

"Midoriya," Tomura said. Izuku looked up, not sure what to expect. Tomura flicked an inconspicuous look at Kurogiri and then focused back on him before speaking, "You did well. Don't ruin it by being a spaz."

"Right." Izuku reddened, both embarrassed and pleased. He started to lay out the information he gathered, going mostly from his memory. He was going on about the minutiae of UA's class schedules and how the teachers who didn't have a homeroom class fit into everything when Kurogiri cut him off.

"Did you find anything about field trips, class outings, anything like that? We can't engage unless they're off campus."

Izuku paused to think, rifling through the pages for anything to jog his memory. He half-remembered an afternoon of classes scheduled to be canceled in the coming week. He pointed to his messy scrawl once he found the correct page.

"Well, there's the Unforeseen Simulation Joint. It's technically affiliated with UA but it's pretty far from the main campus."

"Keep talking," Tomura said, somehow knowing Izuku needed approval to keep from melting into a puddle of nerves.

"Next week Class 1-A is doing rescue scenarios with Thirteen. Overseen by All Might and Eraserhead."

"That's perfect," Tomura said, his eyes glinting with sick joy.

Izuku was completely lost. If the objective was to destabilize UA, why do it when All Might, the biggest threat to villains in existence, was around?

"What exactly is the plan, Tomura?"

Tomura fixed him with an appraising stare. It'd been a long time since Tomura looked at him with anything like suspicion or mistrust in his eyes. It hurt Izuku, but another part of him knew that the plan must be really big if he was struggling to share it with Izuku.

Tomura shared another look with Kurogiri, and he responded with a small nod.

"We're gonna kill All Might."

"That's…" Izuku started, trying to find the right word for exactly what he was feeling. In the long silence that followed, Izuku tried to make sense of what he'd just heard. He remembered the day he met All Might, the moment that set him on his crooked path to villainy.

Even as the emaciated corpse of a person he revealed himself to be, one couldn't simply kill the Symbol of Peace.

"Stupid." Finally, Izuku was able to finish his thought. It wasn't the most eloquent thing he'd ever said, but he stood by it.

Tomura rolled his eyes, scoffing in exasperation. "Midoriya."

"I'm serious, Tomura. That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard in my life. He's All Might."

"At least he's not crying," Kurogiri said uncharitably to Tomura, as if Izuku wasn't there. Tomura chuckled. Izuku was confounded by his good mood.

"Your disgusting hero worship aside, you're taking this surprisingly well."

"It's not hero worship! And stop ganging up on me." Izuku pouted.

"Stop pouting and maybe I will." Tomura poked Izuku's cheek.

" Fine. Explain to me how you plan on killing All Might."

—

"This isn't going to work, Tomura," Izuku said for the hundredth time that week. He was tired of saying it but his stubborn friend wouldn't listen. He'd heard the plan in full, and while he could admit that there was some element of good strategy in there, it was still doomed.

"Not this again," Tomura said, leading him down a series of alleyways in Kamino Ward with only the light of the moon as a guide. He wouldn't tell Izuku where he was taking him, but he said it would help convince him. "Just wait a little while longer and then if you still want to back out, I'll consider listening to you."

"That's such a raw deal. Considering listening and actually listening to me are two very different things."

"I'm technically your boss, you know. I don't have to make deals with you, underling," Tomura said, disappearing around a corner. Izuku scoffed, but followed.

Tomura had been in such a good mood since the successful break in. He'd been joking more, and laughing as a result. For the first time since Izuku had met him, he felt he was seeing Tomura for what he was: an eighteen year old boy. Izuku felt special, knowing this side of his friend was only for him. He smiled to himself.

"What happens if we get caught, boss? " Because they would not make it out of this unscathed. That much Izuku knew for certain.

"I'd probably go to prison. You'd probably get sent back to your mommy with a slap on the wrist."

"I'm being serious, Tomura."

"So am I. You think anyone would look at you and think bad guy? I hardly believe it myself most of the time."

"I don't want to go back to my old life," he admitted.

If there was one thing Izuku learned in his fifteen years of life it was that he couldn't have everything, and he'd already had so much more than he did before. He couldn't have a relationship with his doting mother and have a friend. He couldn't maintain his love for heroes and hate the Symbol of Peace. There just wasn't enough room for everything to coexist. It was the first time he'd said it out loud because the truth of it scared him. Izuku's old life was only a shell of what he had now. He missed his mom so much, but she deserved a better son than someone like Izuku. Maybe she could start over with a better husband, have a better child. He didn't want to think about the intense disappointment he'd see in her eyes if she ever found out what became of Izuku.

He may not be happy every second of the day now, but he had a friend to confide in and to steady him. Tomura was surprisingly kind in his actions, if not with his words. He made sure Izuku ate when he should, slept before the sun came out, woke before the sun went down. He never let him wallow. He took care of Izuku whether Tomura realized it or not. Izuku wondered if he'd ever be able to repay him.

"I wouldn't let that happen," Tomura said, stopping at a heavy metal door. "At least, not for long anyway."

Izuku looked around, each warehouse and door looking exactly the same as the one in front of them. How did he know they were in the right place?

"What do you mean?"

"Kurogiri is, like, the ultimate failsafe. As long as he warps away he can always come get us. Remember that if you ever get caught. We'll always come for you." Tomura worked the padlock on the door open to remove the noisy chain blocking their entry.

"That was surprisingly sweet," Izuku said, touched. So much so that he nearly forgot about the disastrous plan they were setting in motion in less than 24 hours.

"Don't be gross, dork." He pushes the rusty door open with his shoulder, the hinges squealing as it fought to stay closed.

"Speaking of," Izuku said, moving to put his weight against the door to help Tomura get it open. "Why didn't he just warp us here?"

"Sometimes it's nice to get away. And it'll be harder to walk around unnoticed after tomorrow. Why? You don't like hanging out with me?" Tomura said, pushing for sarcasm but just failing.

"Meh," Izuku said, a small smile playing at his lips as they managed to push the door fully open. Tomura narrowed his eyes in a mock glare.

"You know, I think I liked you better when you were afraid of me."

"Then you shouldn't have been such a doting friend." He laughed as Tomura shoved him.

"Shut up, dweeb. Come on."

Izuku stumbled into the dark warehouse, still laughing but acutely aware of the fact that he was totally blind once the door slammed shut behind them.

"Tomura?" Izuku asked, hands reaching for anything solid in the dark. Finding nothing, Izuku started to turn when a hand caught his wrist as the fluorescent lights flickered on above.

"I'm here."

Izuku jumped at the suddenly lit room, their apparent closeness. Tomura loomed over him, his crimson eyes flickering with something like amusement. He dropped his wrist almost as soon as the lights stopped flickering. Izuku gulped and tried to calm his stuttering heartbeat.

"Afraid of the dark?" Tomura teased, turning to walk farther into the warehouse. "Come on. It's time for you to meet my anti-Symbol of Peace."

"This is the secret weapon you kept going on about?"

"Something like that."

Tomura sauntered to the far end of the warehouse, nonchalantly passing by a machine that seemed to be housing brains in sickly green fluid. Izuku got that feeling in the pit of his stomach the way he always did when he remembered how potentially dangerous his new life was. They paused at another door, this one much less rusty. It unlocked easily.

"Tomura…"

"You trust me, don't you?" Tomura rested a gloved hand on the door handle, ready to push it open the second he heard the magic word.

"Of course." It was the truth. However gruff or violet Tomura was, he was still the only real friend he'd ever had, if he didn't count his disastrous friendship with Kacchan. The more time he spent by Tomura's side, the easier it was to forget Kacchan.

Izuku would follow Tomura anywhere, and so when Tomura pushed into the room, Izuku followed him further into the darkness with little hesitation.

"So, do you believe me now?"

The creature—it had to be a creature, there was no way this thing was human —stared at Izuku with glassy eyes. Tomura called it a Nomu. It sat, silent save for its breathing, until Tomura told it to stand. It did so with zero hesitation. Izuku was intimidated by its towering height and the thick cords of muscle pulling and relaxing as it moved.

"It's definitely big enough to fight All Might."

"Nomu is indestructible. He's like you."

When Izuku balked at such a comparison, Tomura laughed. The Nomu responded to his voice, a soft wheeze coming from its bird-like mouth.

"I mean he has multiple Quirks. Shock absorption and super strength. And he's fast. All Might won't know what hit him."

Not for the first time, Izuku wondered if he should tell Tomura All Might's secret. That he could only be the Symbol of Peace for a small amount of time before he morphed into a skinny, chronically sick man. He wanted to sit on the secret a while longer. Maybe Izuku wasn't totally ready to cross to the dark side yet.

"You're thinking too much," Tomura said, always knowing when Izuku worked himself into a lather over his own tumultuous thoughts.

"What else is new?" Izuku let out a laugh that ended before it began.

"You've heard the plan. You know it's as flawless as it can be. And look at Nomu. Everything will be okay."

"What if it's not?"

"Then we try again. No harm, no foul."

"Really?"

"That's what my master says. I can do anything I want. I want to kill All Might and destabilize the hero industry. I won't stop until I get what I want."

Izuku nodded. He couldn't say anything in the face of that much confidence.

They spent the night in the pitch dark warehouse with Tomura's Nomu nearby. They should've been resting—tomorrow was such a big day—but they couldn't. Maybe it was the nervous energy that buzzed inside Izuku, filling him with dread, or maybe it was the calm Tomura seemed to emanate. He was so confident despite Izuku's protests. He was downright giddy, laughing at his own jokes and starting random conversations Izuku couldn't pinpoint the origin of. Maybe it was just his closeness. They never spent this much time talking, laughing, breathing the same air when they were in the bar.

"Why're you in such a good mood?" Izuku asked, his curiosity finally getting the better of him. Izuku's eyes had long adjusted to the darkness, and the high-ceilinged room that housed the Nomu had a small skylight that bathed the room in faint moonlight. He could see Tomura's smile growing wider by the second.

"You're not? Do you want to go back to the bar?"

Izuku shook his head. He did not want to go back to the bar and lose sight of his smiling friend.

"It's nice to get out."

Izuku didn't understand. Most of the time, Izuku felt the bar to be the only safe place he knew. He felt a kind of vertigo when he was out in the world, like everything was too big and it would swallow him whole if he stayed out for too long.

"You keep saying that. I don't understand."

Tomura looked at him with calculating eyes, like he was deciding how much it would cost him to be honest.

"It's just nice to be away from prying eye, I guess."

Izuku scrunched his face in confusion and Tomura chuckled.

"Kurogiri isn't so bad but his job—aside from warping me wherever I tell him to—is to watch me. He's basically a glorified babysitter."

"I never thought of it that way."

"You wouldn't. You trust too easily."

Izuku scoffed and swatted Tomura's shoulder with an open palm. Tomura caught his wrist again, held it for no apparent reason.

"I'm not saying it's a bad thing. Well, it is. But I like that you trust me." He chuckled. "From now on, just trust only me."

"Are you nervous about tomorrow?"

Tomura let out a sigh that somehow didn't sound annoyed or exasperated or content. Maybe contemplative. His breath ghosted across the hand he still held. He shook his head.

"You're so self-assured," Izuku said, almost reverently.

"You should try it sometime. Feels great."

Izuku didn't answer. He felt himself drifting, finally too tired to let his racing mind keep him up. His head dropped, pillowing itself on the arm that previously held it up. Tomura turned on his side, unwittingly coming closer to Izuku with the movement.

"I'm serious, Midoriya. Tomorrow you'll see how strong you are. You'll see that you don't need All Might or Kacchan or anyone else's approval."

Izuku sighed, "Right. Kacchan…"

He'd almost forgotten about Kacchan. When Izuku saw his name on the Class 1-A registry in the records office he wasn't surprised at all, but seeing his name on a roster and seeing him in real life were two different things.

"Don't waste your time on him. Want me to disintegrate him for you?" Tomura flash a rare, real smile, one with teeth that always made the scar on his lip more noticeable. He pulled on the hand he still held. They were practically nose to nose.

Izuku laughed, partly because Tomura seemed so eager to do it and partly because the idea of Tomura being able to get close enough to hurt Kacchan was ludicrous. He wouldn't tell him that, though. Why ruin his good mood?

"Thank you, Tomura." Izuku sighed, sleep creeping up on him. His wrist was warm where Tomura held it against his chest. Izuku was barely conscious of the fact that he moved closer to Tomura, seeking the warmth he provided. He was too tired to be embarrassed that their lips brushed. It was only for a second and they were too tired to let it be anything more.

Faintly, he could hear the Nomu breathing somewhere in the dark. In a few hours, all hell would break loose, but for now, Izuku was happy to be sleeping on the cold floor of the warehouse with the person he cared for most.

—-

Izuku fiddled with the mask that obscured everything below his eyes. It was annoying, but he wasn't ready to claim all out villainy just yet—he'd rather maintain his missing and presumed dead status for as long as possible. Every few minutes or so a warp gate would open, allowing more villains into the main room of the warehouse he slept in last night. Tomura did his best to be enigmatic, and it worked for the most part. He was clearly emulating his master, and maybe a bit of Kurogiri's manners.

It was a little jarring how different he was in front of an audience. Tomura didn't strike him as a person with enough patience or social skills to put up a front—to play nice—but here he was, smiling placidly behind his hand mask.

"Midoriya," Tomura said, his voice low and private, but with a professional kind of distance they'd never bothered with before. It was even more out of the ordinary considering the fact that they kissed each other last night. Or was it all a crazy dream Izuku had? They didn't get a chance to talk about it this morning.

"Shigaraki?" Izuku said, guessing that he should play along, pretend as if he wasn't on a first name basis with the boss. Tomura seemed pleased to not have to spell it out for him—that big, bad villains didn't have friends, only accomplices. Underlings as Tomura had jokingly called him the night before.

"If you're going to keep standing there like you're my right hand man, act like it. No muttering, no shaking."

"Sorry, To—Shigaraki."

"Don't apologize to anyone. These guys are hardly villains, just petty thugs and alley rats, but if you show weakness they'll walk all over you."

Izuku nodded, unsure of what he could say in his defense. He appreciated Tomura's concern, even if his advice was barbed. He had a point though. Izuku wasn't some skinny, Quirkless kid anymore. His periodic training with Tomura had him gaining some muscle. Even with his shoddy control over Barrier, he was still nearly impervious to attacks. As long as he could get the Barrier to cover him he was safe, and if he didn't, Nine Lives was a great back up. Heartless, though… He wasn't sure if he should use it yet. It frightened him to feel nothing, to literally pull all his feelings from his chest and walk around as an emotionless husk of a human being. He'd only used it once, and the backlash of deactivating the Quirk—of shoving his feelings back into his chest—was completely debilitating. After using it for only a couple hours, it rendered him useless for nearly an entire day.

Tomura seemed less bothered by the drawbacks than he should've been, but then again he couldn't feel it. Izuku was caught in a swirling storm of rage, mania, and depression all at once. Like everything he escaped feeling for those few hours hit him full-force, and he just had to ride it out.

"How could you think this Quirk was good for me?" Izuku asked, spitting the words at Tomura, in a flash of pure, unadulterated hatred. It was terrifying to feel, terrifying to have zero control, but Tomura's eyes were alight with something like pride. He was enjoying this side of Izuku.

"You said you didn't want to feel anymore," Tomura said quietly, as if he were trying to calm a feral animal. He put his hands on his shoulders, gently pressing, like he was the only thing tethering him to earth—to sanity. His eyes softened a bit at Izuku's distress. Tomura looked taken aback, maybe a little upset that his perfect gift wasn't all that perfect.

"You'll just have to practice more with this Quirk, and then you'll have everything you wanted and you won't have to worry about feeling bad about anything ever again." He said it with such warmth and care that Izuku decided to believe him, but he hadn't tried to practice with Heartless since.

Izuku was brought out of his thoughts by howling. Someone was howling in the cavernous warehouse and it echoed loudly off every surface. The howl trailed off into raucous laughter, and the culprit, a bulky guy covered in fur with the face of a wolf, jumped from foot to foot like he was psyching himself up.

Izuku wrinkled his nose. So far, the gathering criminals had been quiet, waiting respectfully—or as respectfully as criminals could be—for instruction from Tomura. He saw Tomura bristle in his periphery as well. They shared a covert, side-eyed look at one another while the wolf continued to howl and whoop and shake his fur.

"Quiet," Tomura rasped, the annoyed edge in his tone made obvious.

The wolf man stopped and leveled an appraising look at Tomura. His eyes landed on Izuku as well, but slid away quickly as if disregarding him completely. Izuku was used to being overlooked and underestimated, but it bothered him more than it used to.

"Or what? You gonna sic your little pet on me?" The wolf said, his chest puffing out as he stood to his full height. If not for the Nomu in the next room, he might've been the biggest villain in the warehouse.

"Pet?" Izuku mumbled, looking to Tomura for clarification.

Tomura narrowed his eyes at Izuku and whispered low, "Stand up for yourself. You're making me look bad."

Izuku realized with a jolt that the wolf was referring to him.

"Pet? Y-you're the one with all that mangy fur, mutt," Izuku said, trying to sound tough. He failed. He could practically feel Tomura trying not to roll his eyes.

The wolf laughed, throwing his head back.

"Settle down, kid. You're in over your head."

Izuku looked to Tomura again, subtly asking for permission. Tomura gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.

Izuku summoned his barrier, letting it cover his fist. His whole arm tingled with barely controlled energy. While the wolf was still chuckling and commenting on Izuku's small stature, he forced the energy out, just like he practiced on Tomura. The Barrier sailed out and landed an unforgiving punch to the wolf's chest and knocked him flat on his back. In that moment, he was glad for the mask he wore. It covered the trail of blood leaking from his nose. He wasn't at all used to his Quirk yet. No matter how much he practiced, it always took a toll.

Izuku did his best impression of Tomura, sauntering forward to the wolf, summoning all the anger he held deep within. He was finally silent, all the breath knocked out of him. Izuku planted a boot on his furry chest, and leaned down on it.

"Call me Blackout. Not kid, not pet," Izuku said, trying to sneer (again, he was so thankful for the mask that covered most of his face).

"Are we clear, pup?" Tomura said. Izuku leaned harder on the foot atop the wolf's chest for emphasis. The wolf coughed, but nodded sullenly, brought to heel.

"Fantastic," Izuku said, allowing his voice to return to its usual chipper cadence. He made his way back to Tomura's side. Blood was dripping from his nose into his mouth but he was determined not to let Tomura know. Even with the hand covering his face, Izuku knew he was pleased.

"Now that that's done. It's time to discuss the plan." Tomura's red eyes glinted with mirth and mischief as Izuku took his place on Tomura's right, and Kurogiri and the Nomu emerged out of thin air on his left.

Izuku pulled his hood up to conceal most of his curls before passing into the warp. All the nerves he'd successfully ignored over the last few hours—hell, the last week—crept up on him and settled in his gut as the inside of the USJ came into view. Izuku made his choice, chosen sides, long ago. He'd stopped counting the days and months since he found a new life with the villains, but he had a feeling today was the real turning point in his life. He couldn't toe the line anymore. One way or another, Izuku would leave this place fully changed.

"Nervous?" Tomura asked. He sounded like he might've been teasing Izuku for it, but he wasn't sure if that was him acting unattached for the crowd of villains behind him or trying to make him feel better.

"Immensely." He couldn't lie, and it would hardly matter if he could. Tomura always saw through him.

"Don't be."

"What if something goes wrong?" Izuku said it so quietly he was surprised Tomura could still hear him.

"What if everything goes right?"

Izuku didn't have a chance to respond before everything fell into chaos. Izuku picked his side—he picked Tomura and Kurogiri and the League of Villains. Now he'd have to face that choice head on.


	6. Chapter 6

The warp around them receded and Izuku looked up domed ceiling of the USJ. It was magnificent and unruly and easy to get lost in. Izuku argued so much with Tomura over using this place as the setting for their plan. They had little to go on in terms of pictures or maps. All Izuku could glean from the internet was that there were multiple sprawling landscapes to recreate earthquakes, tsunamis, wildfires, the list went on and on.

There were too many unknowns. They only knew about half of class 1-A's Quirks. Tomura's plan to separate them all and have the low-level villains pick them off one by one was a good plan, but it made his stomach burn with guilt. These people were his age. He hoped they were able to hold their own, but the sheer amount of villains they brought with them was sure to overwhelm the heroes in training.

He stood between Tomura and Kurogiri, and he could feel the Nomu's hulking presence behind him. When he scanned the crowd of faces before him, he jumped when his eyes met Kacchan's. He had to stop himself from reaching for Tomura's hand. His gaze only held for a second before sliding away from Izuku's. There was zero recognition in his eyes, and Izuku once again thanked his lucky stars that he was so plain, and that his mask and hood hid so much of his face. Just like the wolf earlier, it was as if Izuku wasn't worth a first glance, much less a second one. Still, he couldn't keep himself from staring. Even as Eraserhead jumped into the fray, he only had eyes for Kacchan.

He'd always been strong and imposing, but now, standing before him in his hero costume, Izuku was rapt. He was even more muscular, the sculpted form of his chest and arms visible in his thin black tank top. He had the same look on his face. Even after more than a year, Kacchan maintained his bored-yet-angry expression despite having a thinner face and a stronger jaw. _Handsome_ was the only word that came to mind.

"Shigaraki, All Might isn't here," Izuku whispered, only catching his eye for a second from behind his hand mask.

"We're in too deep to back out now. Stick to the plan. Maybe he'll show," he answered in a low voice. Both Izuku and Kurogiri nodded.

The students started running for the exit, and Kurogiri disappeared in a shroud of mist to head them off. The villains that weren't fighting (and losing to) Eraserhead all dispersed across the facility to wait for the students in their designated areas. His stomach twinged again as he thought of the students. The information he was able to pull from the records office would put more students at risk than others. He gave his head a good shake, as if to ward off his bad thoughts.

"You okay?" Tomura whispered, just loud enough for Izuku to hear. Izuku was not okay, but he didn't want to distract Tomura. This was important to him, even if the plan was doomed to fail the second it was clear that All Might was nowhere to be found. Still, he nodded.

"I'm going to break off. Gather more info on the students. Don't underestimate Eraserhead," Izuku said. It was his subtle way of telling Tomura to stay safe.

"You too, brat. Don't get too close," Tomura said, as if he somehow knew Izuku's thoughts were straying back to Kacchan. It was baffling how much they'd come to understand each other, to read each other's intentions and weaknesses without having to speak. Izuku huffed and uneasy laugh.

"Try not to monologue too much, boss."

And with that he slipped away towards the Collapse Zone. He told Kurogiri to send Kacchan there when they were devising their plan of attack. They seemed suspicious of his interest in Kacchan.

"If he has an explosion Quirk, shouldn't we send him to the flood zone? Or even the conflagration zone."

Izuku expected them to question his decision, so he'd thought up a counter argument and shook his head.

"Kacchan wouldn't let water or fire slow him down. No matter where you put him he'd be a problem. That said, his greatest weakness is working in a team. So it would be good to put him with a large group. Send these three with him." He pointed to the UA files he'd managed to copy.

"Why these students?" Kurogiri asked, inspecting the files.

"Aoyama Yuga looks very… punchable. Kacchan's probably annoyed by him. Hagakure Toru is invisible so it really doesn't matter where you send her, and it will be harder to stage large scale attacks with her around. And Kirishima Eijiro has a hardening Quirk. He's probably immune to Kacchan's Quirk. That probably makes him angry, so they'll butt heads."

Kurogiri hummed in acknowledgment, but didn't say anything else. Tomura still looked suspicious and slightly angry, but that was probably because they were talking about Kacchan. He really didn't like him.

"Alright, brat. Let's hope you're right."

Izuku could hear explosions before he even reached the Collapse Zone. It wasn't hard to find the group. Izuku stuck to the shadows, observing the four students. Kacchan was a force of nature. Izuku watched as he bowled over four villains at once with sweeping explosions and absolutely no regard for either the invisible girl or the boy with sharp, jagged skin.

"Damn, Bakugo! _Manly,"_ the boy, Kirishima, said while completely disregarding the fact that he was incredibly close to a gigantic explosion.

Kacchan's only response was a chaotic cackle and a bellowed, "Die, shitty bastards!"

"Guys! Hit the deck!" A disembodied pair of gloves jumps out from behind a fallen piece of rubble, and without argument both boys duck and roll almost immediately.

"Aoyama, now!"

At her words, a sparkling beam of light shot out of the blonde's stomach directly into what he assumed was the invisible girl's chest.

_Light refraction, _he thought as the beam separated and flew in all directions, effectively putting down every remaining villain. It was a huge misstep pairing them together after all. Her UA file said nothing about light refraction as her Quirk, but he should've known better. Hopefully Tomura wouldn't find out. He really didn't feel like dealing with one of Tomura's moods—he was bound to be pissed enough if All Might didn't show.

The invisible girl laughed and high fived the blonde, who looked to be slightly panicking.

"That was awesome!"

Izuku scrunched his nose up. _This isn't a game. Take it seriously._

"Get your head in the game, Invisibitch! This isn't a fucking joke," Kacchan snarled. The red haired boy deactivated his Quirk and sent a pointy smile in Kacchan's direction.

"Be nice, Blasty." Kirishima ruffled Kacchan's hair. Izuku was shocked that he only received a half-hearted shove to Kirishima's shoulder. Izuku remembered—bitterly—the way Kacchan shoved him away the time he tried to help him up after a fall. If Izuku tried anything like what Kirishima just did, Izuku wouldn't be able to walk after the beating he'd take.

It seemed Izuku seriously miscalculated sticking Kacchan and Kirishima together. He figured Kacchan would resent anyone with a direct counter to his own Quirk. He didn't even consider the fact that they'd be a great pair.

Something burned in his gut—on some level he knew it was jealousy, but he wasn't ready to admit that. What would his life have been like if he had a Quirk that set him on equal footing with his explosive best friend? If he had a Quirk that allowed him to stand beside Kacchan, would they have been able to see eye to eye? The thought makes him laugh because he _did_ have a Quirk like that now. The irony smarts.

At Izuku's barely there laugh, Kacchan turned sharply in his direction, an explosion rocketing out of his palms. The explosion barely missed him, but the force of the hot air blowing back at him knocked his hood off. Izuku gasped, scuttling backwards into the shadow of a half-collapsed alleyway. He couldn't see any of the heroes in training from his hiding spot, but he could hear them.

"What was that, Bakugo?"

"Another villain?"

"I—I thought I saw…." He'd never heard Kacchan sounds so unsure. Izuku wished he could see his face, just for a second. Kacchan grunted, his voice deepening in a menacing way. "Nothing. Let's get the fuck back to the plaza. I'm gonna kill that smokey bastard."

Once the group left the collapse zone, Izuku crawled out of his hiding place and made his way to the Flood Zone. He couldn't get close to the boat, but he watched the small purple guy climb up the side of the boat with his Quirk. _Sticky balls? Seriously?_ It wasn't the most flashy Quirk in the world, but he supposed it had a multitude of applications. Even from so far away, Izuku can tell the guy is panicking. There was supposed to be another student with him, but for the life of him he couldn't remember who.

Suddenly, a bolt of lightning strikes from somewhere beneath the water and spreads along the surface. The villains he could see on the surface of the water convulsed until the lightning abated. More villains floated to the surface, unconscious. It reminded Izuku of the goldfish he had when he was young. He was devastated when he came home one day and found it floating at the top of its tank, completely lifeless.

His somber thoughts were diverted when a UA student crested the top of the water and immediately gave a loopy thumbs up, "Heeeeey!"

"Kaminari, you idiot!" The purple boy threw a long rope of purple balls at the stammering boy floating on the surface. He made no complaints when the balls stuck to his back and he was quickly reeled to relative safety.

Izuku watched whole display with a smile on his face. He couldn't help but laugh as he made a note of their quirks in his pocket-sized notebook.

_Kaminari - Electricity Quirk - Braindead with overuse. Small purple boy - Sticky balls - multiple uses - panics under pressure._

Izuku pocketed his notebook, ready to make his way back to Tomura. If All Might was going to show up, he would've. Tomura needed to take his own advice and know when to run. He could only hope he could convince Tomura to listen.

"Hey!" An unfamiliar voice washed over Izuku and he tensed, looking around for a potential attacker. He came face to face with a short boy with curly green hair. The boy was in a fighting stance. His hero costume was… skimpy, especially for a male costume. _A touch-based Quirk?_

"You're a villain? You hardly look my age," he smirked, his gold eyes sharp.

Izuku took an instinctive step back. Despite the last few months of training with Tomura and the wiry muscle he'd put on, Izuku was not a fighter. He didn't know this guys Quirk either. He couldn't risk getting put down and left with the small fry villains. He'd like to think Tomura wouldn't abandon him, but he didn't want to leave something like that to chance.

"Don't get to close. You don't know what I can do," Izuku said, trying for some bluster but failing epically. His eyes darted and shifted, looking for any way out.

"You don't know what _I_ can do. I'm a UA student. The best of the best." This boy was much better at heroic bluster than Izuku could ever hope for. Or maybe it wasn't bluster. Maybe he really _was_ that confident.

"I don't want to fight you," Izuku said honestly.

"Too bad."

The boy lunged at Izuku before he could make a break for it. He grabbed his wrist in an unforgiving martial arts hold. Izuku tried to rip his arm from his grasp, but it hardly made any difference. As soon as their skin touched, the boys eyes go a little wide.

"Wait! Are you—? Deku?"

Izuku flinched, as if the boy had slapped him. No one's called him Deku in nearly a year. How could he ever know anything about his past?

"That's not my name," Izuku barked, the deep well of anger he keeps chained inside him bubbling to the surface every second. He felt sick. Maybe if he vomited on the boy he could get away from him.

_Stay calm. Just get back to Tomura._ _He'll keep you safe._

"You are! You're Bakugo's f—" Deku knew he was about to say friend, and the thought was laughable and the bitter edge of anger and resentment slashed at his heart. And fear. Fear that if anyone knew he was still alive, he would be taken back to a life where he was defined by being weak, Quirkless.

He thought about Kacchan and the way his friend ruffled his hair. Kacchan didn't need or want Izuku back in his life. He didn't want to be defined as "Bakugo's friend." He never wanted to be Kacchan's anything again. And because of that, almost instinctively, without any real thought, Izuku called his barrier to snake around his forearm and he walloped the strange boy on the temple too fast for him to react. He crumpled to the floor, blood pooling around him from the gaping gash in the side of his head.

Izuku gasped, blood and tears running into his open mouth. He scrubbed at his face as the gravity of what he'd just done slammed into his gut. He didn't want this. He feared for the student's safety in every step of the plan. He never thought _he'd _be the one hurting them. He stumbled away from the growing pool of blood, away from his shame. Only a few yards away he tripped over his feet and vomited the small meal he'd had before he passed through the warp. He could barely get his face mask off in time.

He rolled away from his mess and curled into a ball.

_I killed someone. I killed someone. I killed someone._

It's all he could think about. He didn't even know the boy's name. Then again, would knowing his name make him feel better or worse? The only thing that could possibly bring him out of his downward spiral was the booming sound of the door flying off its hinges.

All Might was here. And he wasn't smiling.

The only thing worse than killing someone was killing someone and getting caught by All Might. So Izuku pushed himself up and put his mouth guard in place. Tomura's plan was back in action and no matter what he thought of it, he needed to be there for him. Izuku set off in a sprint towards the plaza.

Izuku stayed on the sidelines for most of the fight, waiting for an opening to get back to Tomura. Watching All Might and the Nomu trade blows is incredible, and a much needed distraction from Eraserhead's broken body lying in a pool of blood. He desperately hoped he would live through this day. The sheer force of the blows destabilized every small step Izuku made trying to get to Tomura. Izuku could feel himself unraveling, itching to get back to the familiarity of the bar. He needed to feel Tomura's quiet confidence beside him. All Might tried to suplex the Nomu and the blowback knocked Izuku straight on his ass. Luckily, Kurogiri opened a warp gate right below the Nomu, All Might coming out on the other side.

A sheet of ice skates toward the scene, freezing the left side of the Nomu's body. Izuku stayed down, crouching further behind a rock to stay out of sight. Endeavor's son, Todoroki Shoto, looking the picture of calm assisted All Might just long enough for him to get out of the warp. Despite himself and his allegiances, Izuku breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't want to see anymore people die today.

All his relief washed away when the familiar sound of explosions rocketed into the plaza. Kacchan barreled into Kurogiri, a firm blazing palm on the only solid part of him. He could see Kirishima across the clearing and the same jealousy from before pinched in his gut. _Focus._

Another blow from All Might blew away all the UA students in the clearing.

"Stay back! Get to the exit," All Might bellowed between punches. He couldn't focus on anything else that was said because Kacchan was blown just a few feet away from his hiding spot. In the few seconds it took Kacchan to recover, Izuku had only taken a step towards Tomura before Kacchan was rocketing toward him.

A blazing fist connected with Izuku's stomach, knocking the air out of him. Izuku was panicking. The familiar heat of the hit clouded his mind with an ugly panic-induced fog. His thoughts were a jumble of _Kacchan_ and _help_ and _Quirk! How do I use my Quik?_

Kacchan's voice roared in his ears, screaming profanities and it was as if Izuku had been transported back to a year ago. Kacchan reared back, his signature right hook, and muscle memory only told Izuku to flinch. The blow connected and it knocked his mouth guard clean off his face. Izuku activated his Quirk as a last ditch effort to preserve his identity. Black energy covered his face, obscuring his green eyes and freckles and all the things Kacchan would take one look at and _know._ His hood was still up, thankfully, but Kacchan was still on top of him, screaming and smoking and enraged. All Izuku could do was scream.

"Kurogiri!"

His outburst surprised him. His voice was high and manic, but it was loud enough to draw Kurogiri's attention. He didn't expect Kacchan to falter, his eyes blown wide. Izuku knew his Quirk was still covering his face, he saw it clouding his vision. Did Kacchan recognize him somehow?

"De—" Kacchan started. That was all Izuku heard before he fell into the warp and found himself between Kurogiri and Tomura. His attention was immediately drawn to All Might and the Nomu. Just as Izuku was getting his feet under him, All Might sent a vicious uppercut to the Nomu's chest. It sent him flying up into the roof of the USJ. Izuku chanced a small look at Tomura. His hand mask wasn't enough to cover the burning rage in his eyes. Tomura was smart, but he could be hasty and reckless when he was pissed.

"Tomura," Izuku whispered, trying to tether him to reason. He was shaking in his rage, huffing and puffing like a child. Izuku looked at Kurogiri for any kind of help. The plan had failed, but they could still get away. _Kurogiri is the ultimate fail safe._

"Tomura, we have to—" Izuku started, only to be interrupted by a chorus line of pro heroes. Reinforcements had arrived. _You gotta know when to run._

In the span of a few seconds, a few things happened. First, Snipe raised a pistol and three shots went off in succession. Second, Izuku gasped, and then his feet were moving without his permission.

"Tomura!"

He tried to put his barrier up, he really did, but he struggled with projecting it away from his body without total concentration. He couldn't even cover himself before the bullets burrowed into his flesh, one in his shoulder and two in his thigh. He screamed. Somehow two bullets hurt more than falling off a skyscraper or having his face disintegrated. Or maybe it was just that three bullets was the most immediate pain.

His momentum had him falling to the ground, but Tomura caught him enough to break his fall. He sagged against Tomura, the pain of being held was excruciating.

"Mido—" Tomura started, then immediate cut himself off, having enough presence of mind to keep his identity a secret. He tried not to jostle his injuries too much while still attempting to readjust his hood. Izuku grunted, trying his best not to scream in agony.

"Is it time to run?" Izuku asked lamely, with something like a hysterical laugh bubbling out of his mouth that made him wince.

Tomura swore under his breath, and gave Kurogiri the signal to retreat.

Izuku woke some time later, the left side of his body especially stiff with bandages and slings. Something was _tap, tap, tapping_ impatiently in the corner. Izuku's head swiveled on his stiff neck to find Tomura tapping his foot anxiously, his arms crossed.

"To—" Izuku started, but Tomura's fury could no longer wait to be expelled.

"What the fuck was that? How could you be so stupid?"

"Wha—? I— My feet just moved. I didn't think too much about it."

The painkillers Izuku was on must've been enough to knock out an elephant. His head was light and fluffy and his body was weak and heavy all at the same time. In that moment, it was easy to forget about the green haired boy at the USJ, the pool of blood Izuku left him in.

"You have a defensive barrier Quirk you idiot."

"I couldn't get it up!" And then he laughed, a soft _pffft_ sound as he tried to hold it in, his heavy head fallen into a gutter. Now was not the time.

"Seriously? I'm gonna kill you." Tomura was pacing at Izuku's bedside, his red eyes manic. Izuku wanted him to sit and be calm.

"Better me than you, Tomura. I have extra lives, remember?" _And my guilt is eating me alive_, he thought in some painful, half-forgotten place. Better to focus on Tomura.

"Please, sit down. You're worrying me."

"_I'm _worrying _you?_" Tomura's voice wavered with emotion. Disbelief? Worry? It was odd to imagine Tomura worried about anything, much less worrying about Izuku. Izuku didn't deserve half the things Tomura did for him, gave him, felt for him.

He practically fell into the chair he sat down so forcefully. Not so long ago, Tomura sat in that chair while Izuku slept off the exhausting of having two Quirks thrust upon him. Was he worried then, too?

"I'm sorry for worrying you, Tomura." Izuku tried to reach out to him without straining his wounds. He failed, his fingers finding nothing to hold but the space between them. He let his hand go limp again.

Tomura scoffed, "Shut up." Then he sighed, his voice softening, some of that anger and disbelief fading, "You shouldn't have to keep dying, Izuku."

Izuku was quiet for a moment, processing—trying to separate real from imaginary. Was anything real?

"You called me Izuku." A little thrill shot up Izuku's spine, the painkillers no doubt making him feel that much fuzzier, his memories of what transpired at the USJ too far away to feel at all now. Hardly aware of his own movements, he reached for Tomura again. This time, Tomura met him halfway, allowing Izuku to wrap his numb fingers around Tomura's open, gloved palm.

"That's your name, stupid." Tomura looked away, hiding his red face in his hair.

Izuku sputtered a laugh, but said no more. He was just happy Tomura was no longer pacing, looking half out of his mind. He felt he could sleep now.

"Next time, I'll make sure you're ready. You need practice with your Quirks. And I'll give you your own Nomu. He can take bullets for you and you'll be safe from your own idiocy."

"Mhmm." Izuku drifted, knowing that even when his hand went limp Tomura would keep them connected while he slept.


End file.
